Summer of Smokescreens
by McLance
Summary: A series of events occur to the McFadden family, and to their neighbors, that ignites feelings of panic and fear in the people of Murphys.
1. Chapter 1

School had been out for nearly three weeks, when I began to really feel the constraints of the grounding restriction that Adam had

given me. It wasn't so bad when there was school, and then just the evenings to fill. But now, with no school, and no night class,

either, it gave me way too much time on my hands. Well, that wouldn't be correct. It wasn't that I had too much time on my

hands. Because there were brothers, always ready to give me chores to do to keep me busy.

But, besides the chores, and horseback riding, which I was allowed to do, there was occasional swimming or fishing at the creek,

and, if I was fortunate, hanging out with Kristin or Nancy on the weekends if they came over. That was it. Sometimes I went to

town with Guthrie if he was running an errand or something like that, but it was only for the errand. I knew without being told

that it did not include doing anything else.

I began to feel discouraged about it all. Adam, and Brian too, would tell me every once in a while that I had

done a good job on something or other, but never was the ending of my grounding discussed. And I didn't have the nerve

to bring it up. I knew taking off to Daniel's the way that I had was serious. And I knew that I deserved to be grounded for it. But

I'd never had any grounding this severe before. Of course, I also knew that my trip to Tennessee was the most dangerous thing that I'd ever done.

7

One morning, Adam caught me before he went outside, and asked me if I wanted to go camping that night.

"You and me?" I asked.

"Yeah. You and me."

"Sure," I said.

"Figure out some grub for us. We'll build up a fire and cook our supper," he told me.

"Okay."

After I did all my regular chores in the house, and outside, I put some thought into what food to take

that night. Beans, for sure, I thought. I put some brown sugar and molasses in little containers, and tucked them

into the side of the grub bag. A package of hot dogs, which Adam wasn't that fond of, but which I thought we could

cut up into the beans. Bread, and a couple cans of corn. Coffee, and a coffee pot. Cookies. Apples.

A couple of small pans to heat stuff up in over the fire. Cups. Plates. Forks.

The bag was chocked full by the time I was done.

I shoved some extra socks and hairbrush and hair ties in a backpack, and added some crackers and granola bars. I got

my diabetes stuff ready and put into a separate bag, and then tucked it into my backpack.

I rocked Isaac to sleep for his late afternoon nap, and then sat down at the piano. I ran thru some scales,

and then I began to play something that I'd heard Daniel fool around with.

I was involved, and focused, and I didn't even know anybody was in the room until I stopped, and

Brian spoke up, "Damn, girl, that's fine."

I turned to look at him, and Adam, who was also standing there, with Ford behind them. All three of them

looked surprised.

"Since when have you played like that?" Ford asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I just started playing more often."

"It's really good," Ford said, coming over and sitting down beside me on the piano bench. "Play some more."

"Like what?" I asked, almost embarrassed by their praise.

Ford flipped thru the music book and turned to a page. "Try this one."

"It's too hard," I said, peering closer at it. "I'd have to practice-"

"So go. Practice," Ford said, and then he began to play on the keys where he was sitting. He gestured towards

the piano keys at my end, and I looked at the notes. After Ford had played for a few minutes, I began to play

along with him.

"You play by ear," Ford said, suddenly, sounding excited.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You play by ear. You don't read the notes." He turned around, exalted. "Did you hear that, Adam?"

Adam, who had found a seat on the couch, to listen, said calmly, "I heard."

"That's amazing. Do you know that only a percentage of the population play by ear?" Ford went on.

"Okay," I said, thinking he was awfully excited about something silly.

"How did we not know this?" Ford demanded. "All these years, and we never knew."

"I can read the notes," I protested. "At least some of them, I can."

"What's this one?" Ford demanded, jabbing his finger onto a little black squiggly line.

"I don't know." I gave him a push. "You're being silly."

"Ready to go, sugar?" Adam asked, and I got up quickly. "Yes," I said, gratefully. "I'm ready."

"We're gonna practice every night," Ford hollered after me, as Adam and I went towards the kitchen.

"Not every night, buddy," I muttered, without thinking, and I heard Adam chuckle a little. I looked up at him, and

he said, "You got enough food packed for us?"

"I don't know if it's enough, but it's all I could fit into the bag," I told him.

"Then I guess it'll have to be enough," he said, with a grin.

Hannah followed us out to the barn, as we saddled our horses. "Take this," she said, and held out the first aid kit.

Adam put it in his saddle bag, and fastened the grub sack over his saddle horn, along with a rope. His rifle, he had

tucked into its gun holster. He asked me if I'd filled the canteens, and while I went to do that, he talked to Hannah, and

to Crane, who'd come up to stand with them.

When I came back from the water hydrant, carrying the full canteens, I hooked them over my saddle horn.

He fastened rolled blankets onto the back of his saddle, and then did the same with mine.

"Looks like we're plannin' to be gone till winter," Adam said, as he finished tying my blanket roll.

"Be careful," Hannah said.

"Yes, ma'm," Adam said, and gave her a kiss.

"Have fun," Crane said, as we mounted our horses, and he opened the pasture gate for us.

"I thought we'd ride up close to the state park," Adam said.

"Okay," I said.

We didn't talk all that much as we rode. But that was alright. Put me on horseback, and I'm in my element. Out

in the air, amongst the trees and everything. And I knew Adam was the same.

We'd ridden for a long time, almost to our eastern property line, when Adam asked me if I was

getting tired, and wanted to find a place to make camp. Or if I wanted to ride on.

I hadn't been this far in a really long time. So I told him that I'd rather ride on, if it was alright with him.

"It's alright with me," he said, sounding relaxed.

We'd ridden another thirty minutes or so, when he said, "You ready to camp?"

"Yeah. I am," I said. I didn't want to admit it, but my legs were really stiff now, and my behind was

tired of being in the saddle.

We set up our little camp. I offered to look for the firewood.

"Right around here," Adam told me. "Don't wander too far. Snakes are out."

I shuddered. I really hate snakes. To me, they are the only drawback to it being summertime.

By the time I came back with an armload of firewood, Adam had unsaddled both horses, and was building the campfire.

I stood watching him, as he crouched, slowly adding wood to the growing fire.

"Pull up a blanket, and sit down," he told me.

"I'm gonna stand up for awhile," I said.

He nodded, knowing full well what I was getting at. "It was a long ride."

"It was good, though," I said.

"So, what's our menu for supper tonight?" he asked me.

"Oh." I went to bring the grub bag over, and began taking things out.

"Beans?" I said. "And hotdogs? And corn? And cookies for dessert."

"Sounds fine."

I opened the cans of beans, and the corn with the can opener, and set them all down next to the pans.

While Adam began to cut up the hot dogs into small pieces to go in the beans, I went to get his bedroll,

and my own, and spread them out, one on either side of the fire.

"Oh," I said, snapping my fingers in sudden remembrance. "I forgot!" I pulled the brown sugar and

the molasses containers out of the grub bag, and handed them to him.

"For the beans," I explained.

"So our beans aren't gonna be just ordinary campfire beans, huh?" he asked, with a smile, taking

the containers from me, and dumping the contents into the bubbling pan of beans and hot dogs.

"Certainly not," I said, curtsying like I was a princess. "Nothing ordinary here, sir."

He smiled at me, and went on stirring the beans. I sat down on my bedroll, watching him.

"Want some coffee, too?" I asked him.

"I won't turn it down," he said, and I pulled out the coffee and the pot, handing it to him. He got it ready,

and set it beside the fire to boil.

We ate our simple supper, agreeing that it was filling and tasted just as good as a restaurant meal at that

particular moment. After we ate, I rinsed off the plates and forks with our canteen water, and waved them dry

in the air. I opened the baggie of cookies and held it out to Adam. He dunked the cookies in his coffee, and

then leaned back against his upright saddle.

After he ate the cookies, Adam was quiet, poking at the fire with a stick.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them.

"This was a good idea," I said, into the quiet.

"I think so, too," Adam agreed.

He poured himself another cup of coffee, and then sat back against his saddle again. "There was a few things that I wanted to

talk to you about. I thought this might be a good time to do it."

I couldn't help the little jump of panic in my belly. "Have I done something wrong?" I asked.

"No. It's nothin' like that. Sort of the opposite, in fact," he said.

I looked at him over the campfire light, puzzled.

"You've been doin' a lot of things right lately," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked, feeling happy.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I'm proud of the way you've handled things, since you got back from Daniel's."

At the mention of my 'misadventure' of taking off to Tennessee, I felt sort of timid again.

"I know I haven't said a whole lot to you about things, but I've been payin' attention," he went on. "You've taken your

restriction without complaining. That's good." He gave the fire another poke. "And I can tell you've been

tryin' harder to do the right things. I wanted you to know that I have noticed, and I appreciate it."

I nodded, hoping that he was going to tell me that I was off of my grounding.

"What I'm thinkin' is this," he went on. "You could start driving again, running some errands for us. Goin' to the grocery store for

Hannah, or goin' to pick up feed, or something like that."

Well. That wasn't quite what I was expecting from the way that he'd begun the conversation, by complimenting me. Still,

being able to drive again, even if it was only to do family errands, was better than nothing.

"Okay," I agreed.

Adam gave the fire another poke with the stick. "Let's say you see some friends at the Dari Kurl on your way

back out, after the errands are done. I'm not sayin' you can't stop and talk for awhile. Just call home if you're

goin' to be awhile, and ask permission first before you do anything else. If you're invited somewhere, come and talk

to me, and we'll decide then if it's somethin' that you can do."

"Thanks, Adam," I said, gratefully.

"What I said before, though, well, it still stands. About not keeping things from me. About bein' honest with me. I don't want

to hear things about you from other people, that I should have heard from you," he said.

"I promise," I said, hugging my knees, and rocking back and forth a little.

"Alright. I don't want you to be afraid to come to me about things, Harlie. I mean, you may think I'll get angry about

somethin', and I might. But, talking things out, well, it's important. Especially at your age," he went on.

He seemed thoughtful for a few moments. I sat quietly, waiting.

"A lot of girls your age, and even older, they don't talk to their parents about important things. That's how

teenagers end up in trouble, sometimes. I know I'm not your parent, but-" he hesitated here for a moment, and then

shook his head a little, "Well, I'm what you've got, kiddo."

For a moment I couldn't swallow past the lump in my throat. But, I didn't want the moment to pass without

speaking up.

"I'm glad," I said. "Not about dad and mama, and what happened. But about you, I am. I'm glad you're what I've got."

Adam met my eyes across the small fire. He nodded a little. "Thanks, sugar."

After that, our conversation wasn't so serious. Adam talked a little about when he and Brian were really small, and other

things like that.

I was standing, stretching, and munching on a granola bar, and Adam was refilling his coffee cup, when a booming sound rang out,

ringing like an echo thru the trees.

I began to ask what it had been, not really panicking at first, when Adam was suddenly on my side of the campfire, pulling me down by my arm, so quickly

that I was startled.

"What was it?" I asked, looking at him.

Adam was looking around, and tilting his ear up, listening. "A rifle shot," he told me.

"From far away?" I asked. "Or close by?"

"I'm not sure," he said.

"Maybe somebody else is camping, too," I suggested. "Up at the state park."

"Could be," he said. "Shouldn't be any rifles bein' shot at this time of night, though."

"Do you think it's somebody on our property?" I asked then, beginning to be really frightened.

In answer, another shot rang out, and I tried to catch my breath, reaching out for Adam in full panic.

Adam reached for his own rifle, and I clutched his arm. "What are you doing?" I asked, upset.

"Gonna try to see what's goin' on," he said.

"Nooo," I protested, tightening my hold on him.

"I'll be right back," he told me, still looking out into the darkness.

With one hand, he held the rifle. With the other, he ran his hand over my back. "I want you to stay quiet, and stay low," he told me.

When I didn't answer, he turned to look at me in the campfire light. "I don't want you to move from this spot. Hear me?" he demanded.

"Yes," I said.

And, then he stood up, and disappeared into the darkness.

7


	2. Heavy traffic

It seemed an endless amount of time, that I stayed where I was, crouched down so low, waiting for Adam to

come back. I kept tilting my head, trying to hear, though truthfully, I didn't know just what I was listening for. Another

rifle shot? I hoped not. What I really wanted to hear was the sound of Adam, coming back thru the trees.

I could hear my heart pounding, that's how loud that it was. When it seemed as though Adam had been gone

forever, I began to pray. Pray for his safety. Pray for him to come back.

I heard another rifle shot, then. I wasn't sure, but it sounded as though it was closer than the other two. I nearly

jumped out of my skin. I covered my mouth to keep from screaming.

And I began to pray even harder, promising God that if Adam came back, safe and sound, I would treat all the

animals for free, during the first year of my future veterinary practice. I wouldn't ask for a single dime, I prayed recklessly,

if Adam would just come back, unharmed.

Finally, he did. Though he came so quietly that he was nearly up onto me before I heard him. I was so

relieved that I popped up like a jack-in-the-box, and went to him, wrapping myself around him like

a rubber band.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling as though I could burst into tears. "You were gone so long!"

"Shhh," he shushed me, and ushered me back down to sit on the log beside the fire. He leaned his rifle

against the log, too, and then sat down beside me.

I hadn't totally let go of him, and now I pressed even tighter against his side.

"What's happening?" I asked again, in a quieter voice.

"I couldn't tell," he said.

"There was another shot!"

"I know." He picked up the blanket on the ground, and shook it out, wrapping it around my

shoulders. He put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me tighter.

"Who would be shooting that way? At this time of night?" I asked, trembling with nerves.

"I don't know," he said, sounding grim.

"What are we going to do?" I persisted. "We can't just sit here, can we? Like a couple of ducks?"

"That's exactly what we're going to do," he said. "Sit right here, until morning. I don't know

that it would be safe to ride out of here in the dark."

After that, Adam had more coffee, and so did I. I thought the more coffee the better, since I had

no intention of closing my eyes for sleep at all that night.

"Any more of those cookies?" he asked me, after awhile.

I reached for the package of cookies, and handed it to him, surprised that he could even think of

eating. I didn't say that, though, because truthfully, the fact that he was acting normally made

me feel a little more secure.

"The last shot was closer than the other two," I said. "Don't you think?"

"We'll be alright, Harlie," he said, sounding calm.

"But it was, wasn't it?" I insisted.

"It's hard to say. A rifle's shot can sound near, but not be."

"Oh," I said, looking out into the darkness as though I would be able to see what was going on.

After that, Adam told me a couple of stories, about when he and Brian were little, and how they'd fashioned a

papoose board out of wood, and wrapped Crane, as a nearly one-year old baby, in some blankets, and strapped him to the

board, and proudly carried him into the house on it, to show our mother their handiwork.

"That was when Brian and I were going thru our cowboys and Indians phase," Adam said, with a chuckle.

"What did mom say?" I asked.

"She wasn't all that impressed. But she didn't holler at us for it."

"She was nice, wasn't she?" I asked him, wistfully.

"She was," Adam affirmed. "Real nice."

After a few more minutes, he said, "Here. Stand up a minute," to me.

When I stood up, he took the blanket that I'd been wrapped up in, and held it out to me. "Get your bed made up," he told me.

"I won't be able to sleep," I protested.

"Well, go on and lay down anyway."

I reluctantly took the blanket and made up my bed on the ground, with my bedroll. I laid down, but

said again, "I mean it, Adam. I can't sleep. Not with shots ringing out over our heads."

"We're alright," he said again.

"Tell me another story," I said. "Please?"

I thought that as long as he kept talking, telling me stories in his calm voice, that maybe my heart wouldn't

start jumping around again.

So he began to tell me another story. He was in the middle of it, or thereabouts, when he stopped talking

suddenly, becoming instantly silent. One minute he was telling the story, the next he was silent as a stone.

"What is it?" I asked, sitting up. "What's wrong?"

"Hush," he told me, barely above a whisper. And so I hushed, looking into the darkness in the same direction as

he was, not even sure what I thought that I might see.

And then I heard it, too. The sound of a man's voice. Yelling. It sounded far-off, and there was no way

to hear what it was he was yelling.

"Adam," I whispered, reaching out to latch onto the bottom of his shirt, hanging untucked from his jeans.

He pressed a finger to his lips, telling me to stay quiet.

And then he stood up from his seat on the log, and picked up his rifle. I watched him worriedly, in the firelight.

Adam walked a good distance away, near a tree, and he stayed there, just standing, and

listening. I stood it as long as I could, and then I threw off the blanket, and got up, going to stand behind him,

just the slightest bit. I didn't say anything, though, because I didn't want him to send me back to the fire.

I hooked my fingers thru his belt loops. It was silly, but it made me feel better.

We stood there so long that I felt my foot get all tingly and prickly, like it was going to sleep. I wanted to stamp it,

but I didn't. After that we never heard any more voices.

Finally, Adam turned to me, and without saying anything, motioned me back to the campfire.

Once there, he spoke quietly. "Go on and lay back down."

"Don't make me, Adam," I whispered. "Let me sit up with you. Please?"

"Alright," he said, low.

He sat back down on the log, but with a difference. Now he was sitting, and facing out, away from the campfire, and

towards the woods, and he kept his rifle between his hands, with the barrel pointing up.

I retrieved my blanket, and sat down beside him, covering my legs with it.

"They were yelling," I whispered.

"Uh huh."

"They weren't worried about being overheard," I pointed out.

"Doesn't seem like it," he agreed.

"Should we put out the fire?" I worried aloud.

"No."

"What if they see it though?" I asked, knowing that I shouldn't fuss with him about it.

"It's alright," he said, and tucked the blanket tighter around my legs. It was an 'Adam-action', as I typically

think of the dad-type things that he does.

"Are you going to sit up all night?" I asked.

"Probably."

"Me, too, then," I said, and I resolved to do just that.

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer sitting on the log beside Adam. I was on my bedroll, covered with the

blanket, next to the fire. The sun was just appearing in the sky. Adam was adding a log to the fire, and

setting the coffee pot on it.

I sat up, brushing my hair out of my face.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning," I said, stretching a little.

"Was there any more shots last night?" I asked him.

"Nope."

I scrambled to my feet. "Can I go-" and I pointed to the bushes.

"Yeah. Go on," he told me.

I went behind the nearest bushes, and went pee, and then came back to the fire, rinsing my hands with water from

the canteen. I took the spot next to him, on the log.

"I didn't do so well, staying up with you, huh?" I said.

"You did alright."

"Not if you had to put me to bed, like I'm a baby," I groused.

"You hung in for a long time," he said. "Let's throw something together for breakfast."

I reached for the grub bag. "We have cookies and fruit, or fruit and cookies," I said, with humor.

"What?" he asked, as if dismayed. "No bacon and eggs in that grub bag?"

"Nope. Sorry," I said, giving him a smile.

We ate cookies and fruit, and drank coffee for our breakfast, and then Adam put out the fire, and we saddled

the horses. When we'd gathered up all our belongings, Adam gave a last look around, making certain we hadn't left

any trash, and that the fire was safely out.

We'd ridden for a short distance, and I could tell that Adam was going a different direction than we'd come the day before.

I rode up from behind, so that Petra was alongside Adam's horse.

"Why are we going this way?" I asked him.

"I want to check something out."

"You mean from last night?" I asked.

"Uh huh," he said.

"What do you think it was?" I asked him. "I mean, I know it was somebody shooting and all, but why at night

like that?"

"I don't know. But I'd bet the ranch that whoever it was, was up to no good."

I felt a little chill go down my back at his words, but I tried not to show it. I wanted him to keep telling me

what he thought about it, and talking to me like I was grownup enough to hear it.

We rode for a while longer, and it seemed as though Adam was looking for something. We were near to an open

clearing, and I didn't even recognize where we were at, when Adam pulled up on his reins, and brought Dandy to a halt.

I rode up beside him, and stopped Petra. He motioned me behind with his hand. "I want you to stay behind me now, for awhile," he said.

"Okay," I said, and fell back behind Dandy.

He looked around for a few moments, and I sat quietly, waiting. Then he rode a little more, and got down

off of his horse. He handed his reins to me to hold, and walked around for a couple of minutes, just looking at the ground.

I watched him, puzzled. "What is it?" I asked him.

"Not sure yet," he said, and went on, walking, and looking at the ground, occasionally stopping. At one point, he

crouched down, peering at the dirt.

"Been some traffic thru here," he said. "A lot of traffic."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Trucks. And a trailer. Some ATV's."

I wrinkled my forehead in thought, but before I could ask any more questions, he walked a little further, into the grassy

area just ahead. Here, he walked, and then crouched down again, running his hand along the edge of the grass.

"Hmm," he said, and stood up.

"What?" I asked.

He walked back to where I sat, waiting, with the two horses. "Looks like blood," he said.

He took his reins from me, and mounted.

"Blood?" I asked, trying not to sound horrified. "Human blood?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"A bear then, maybe?" I suggested. "Maybe they shot a bear?"

"It's a lot of tire tracks, for somebody hunting bear."

I looked around. "Are we still on our property?"

"No. We crossed a short ways back," Adam said, and he gave a last look around, before giving Dandy the go=ahead to start out.

"This is the state property?" I asked, looking around.

"Yep."

We rode in silence for awhile. I could tell Adam was in deep thought. I took the canteen from my saddle horn,

and let Petra walk on by herself, while I lifted the canteen, and took a long drink.

"You feelin' alright?" Adam asked, turning his head to look at me.

"Fine," I said.

"You'd best eat something when we get home. Cookies and fruit aren't the best breakfast for you."

"I'll fry up some eggs," I told him. "Want me to make enough for you?"

"I could go for some eggs," he said.

After a couple of moments, I said, "Are you going to call the sheriff about last night?"

"Yeah. And the game warden."

"It was scary," I said.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It was."

"I had fun, though. Before it got scary. Thanks for taking me," I said.

Adam gave me an easy smile. "Thanks for goin' with me."

After that, we didn't talk much. I was tired, and I could tell that Adam was, too. And, while I knew I could slip in a

nap, I knew that he likely wouldn't attempt one.

We rode into our own pasture, and Adam got down to open the first of the gates for us to go thru.

By now, family had been alerted that we were home. Evan came round the side of the barn, and Crane came from

the side pasture. Hannah came down the porch stairs from the house.

"Hey," Crane greeted us both. "How was the camping?"

"It was-interesting," Adam said. He gave Evan and Crane both a serious look. "We need to talk," he said.

"Hey there," Hannah said, coming up and wrapping her arms around Adam's waist. "I'm glad you're home. I was

beginning to wonder about you."

Adam bent down and gave Hannah a quick kiss. "How's everything here?" he asked.

"Everything's fine," Hannah said. She looked at Adam, sensing something in his tone. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"There might be," Adam said. "Where's Brian?"

"He's around here somewhere," Evan said. "I think he's feedin' range cubes."

"Okay." He smiled tiredly at Hannah. "I could use a strong cup of coffee," he said.

"You look exhausted," she said, reaching up to touch his face.'

"I'm worn slick," he said, using an old country saying.

"I'll turn the horses out," Evan offered, and so I went inside with the others, where we congregated in the kitchen.

I washed my hands at the kitchen sink, and started scrambling a pan of eggs. Crane and Hannah were sitting at the

table with Adam, and eventually Evan came in.

By the time I'd finished the eggs and toast, Brian was stomping in. I heaped a plate high with eggs and three pieces of

toast with jelly, and set it in front of Adam. He looked up and said, "You'd better be eatin', too."

"I am," I said, and picked up my own full plate from the stove. "Right here."

I sat down, not in my usual place, but next to Crane instead, since they were all settled at one end of the long

table.

"Where's the boys?" he asked.

"Daniel went to town," Brian offered. "And Guthrie and Ford are off somewhere, lookin' for a couple calves."

"Where?" Adam asked, looking concerned.

"North meadow," Brian said, looking puzzled. "Why?"

"They been gone long?" Adam asked.

Brian looked at Crane for confirmation. "Not too long, right, Crane?"

"No. Not long. An hour," Crane said.

"They take a rifle?" Adam asked.

"Yeah," Crane confirmed.

"Okay," Adam said, and seemed to relax a bit.

"What is it?" Hannah asked him, looking worried.

In the next few minutes, Adam filled them in on what had happened the night before. Hannah hooked her

arm thru the crook of Adam's elbow.

When Adam told the part about how much tire traffic evidence had been on the ground, Evan asked, "Why so

much? Truck, okay, but a trailer?"

"Right," Adam said, in agreement. "And too darn close to our property."

"And the blood?" Hannah asked him. "A little or a lot?"

"Not a huge amount," Adam said.

In a lull in the conversation, Crane reached out to tussle my hair. "Pretty scary, huh, peanut? Gunshots over the top of your head like that?"

I nodded, and Adam spoke up. "She was a trooper. Nerves of steel."

I gave Adam a grateful smile. "Not exactly," I said. "More like nerves of paper, flapping around."

Adam finished his coffee and set the cup down, with a sigh. "Better get to makin' those phone calls," he said,

and stood up, heading towards the living room, and the telephone.

I'd finished my eggs, too, and I took my plate and Adam's to the kitchen sink, and poured myself a cup

of the coffee.

"Honestly," Hannah was saying, almost to herself, as she began running more hot water into the sink. "I was hoping

for the start of a nice, peaceful summer around here."

"Wrong house for that, sis," Crane told her, with a smile.

7

That afternoon, the sheriff and one of his deputies came to the house. I was messing with the goats, and I was

close enough to hear parts of the conversation between them and Adam, Crane and Brian.

"Can we drive?" the sheriff was asking Adam.

"Partway up, then you'll have to hike in, or ride," Adam said.

The sheriff exchanged a look with his deputy. "How are you at horseback riding, Sweeney?"

"I can give it a try," the younger man answered.

"Sweeney here is from New York," the sheriff said, looking at my brothers. "Hasn't ridden a lot."

Adam nodded, while Brian looked dubious.

"Have a beginners horse for him?" the sheriff was asking.

My brothers looked amongst themselves, and Brian said, "Old Charley's probably the best bet, you think?"

"Maybe so," Adam said, and turned my direction. "Harlie, comere a minute."

I went to stand beside him, in the circle of men. "We need to borrow Charley for a bit." Adam said.

I nodded. "Okay. Want me to get him?"

Adam nodded. "Grab Dandy for me, too, will you?"

I went to do as he said, opening the pasture gate, and whistling for Charley. He came quickly, obligingly, followed

by most of the other horses as well. No doubt they all thought it was treat time.

Even Petra came, pushing her way to the front, like the princess she thought that she was.

"You don't get to go," I told her. "It figures you'd try to get in on the action. Think you might be part of

some rescue or something, and get your picture in the newspaper?"

Guthrie took Charley and Dandy's halters, one in each hand. "I'll saddle them," he said, and so I snagged

Brian's horse's halter, too, and then turned to call to him. "Which one for the sheriff?" I asked.

Brian began walking my direction, looking back at the sheriff. "What do you think, Hal?"

"I'm good with anything that will let me get on their back," the sheriff responded.

Brian came to the pasture gate, which I was leaning against to keep Petra from escaping.

"I'll hold him," Brian said, looping his fingers thru Smokey's halter. "Let's get Ryder."

I walked among the remaining horses, who were all sniffing at my pockets in hopes of ferreting out

an apple or a horse treat. I got Ryder, who is a light reddish color, and whose actual name is Red Ryder, after

the kid's gun from the 1950's.

Once I'd handed Ryder off to Brian, and all four horses were saddled, Evan had backed the truck up to the

horse trailer.

"How about riding with me, in the car part-way?" the sheriff asked Adam. "We can go over everything again."

Adam nodded, and got into the sheriff's car, while the deputy rode with Brian, who drove behind, pulling the trailer

full of our horses.

When they'd reached the end of the driveway, Crane gave Guthrie and Evan and I a look, and shook his head a little.

"Man," in said, in a general way, and in that word, it seemed to say it all.

Evan nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

7


	3. Piano duets

It was late by the time Adam and Brian returned home, way past supper time. Pulling the truck and trailer with the horses inside.

We'd eaten without them, and the dishes had already been done by the time we heard the sound of the truck, and

the trailer's doors rattling as they backed it up to unload the horses.

Evan, who'd been watching a western on television, sat up and went to pull on his boots. "I'll go help 'em," he said, and Guthrie followed him

outside.

"I'll start a fresh pot of coffee," Daniel said, and went off toward the kitchen.

The rest of us, Hannah and Clare and I, Crane and Ford, gathered on the porch, waiting for them to come up the front steps.

"What's happening?" Hannah asked, sounding anxious, as Adam came up to stand beside her.

"Lots of traffic in and out, like I thought. Hal took some pictures, did some measuring of the tire tracks, all of that," Adam told her.

"What about the blood?" Ford asked then.

"They took a sample of the grass, they'll run some tests on it. See what sort of blood that it is," Adam said.

We were all quiet for a minute, absorbing what he'd said.

"There were tracks on our property, too," Adam said. "I just didn't catch it this mornin'."

"Oh, no," Hannah said, looking alarmed, as Brian came up and put his arm around Clare's waist.

"They knock any fence down?" Crane asked, his forehead lined in concern.

"Yeah. A small patch," Brian said. "We did a quick repair job. We'll have to head up there in the mornin' and fix it more permanent."

The screen door was pushed open, and Daniel spoke from the doorway. "Coffee's on," he said.

Everybody started filing inside, and Adam reached out to rub Daniel's hair. "Good boy," he said.

Once inside, Clare went to get out the brownies she'd made, and then brought Adam and Brian a plate of food

that had been keeping warm in the oven.

As everybody found a place to sit, and both of them began to eat, with the rest of the family firing questions at them, I

went to fetch them both a cup of hot coffee, and handed it to them.

"Thank you, peach," Brian said.

Evan and Guthrie had come back inside by now, and Adam looked around, making sure I knew, that every McFadden was

present.

"Since we're all here, this is a good time to say that we all need to be extra cautious. Until Hal figures out what's going on,

nobody should ride out far alone. So two together, every time. And take a rifle," Adam was saying.

I felt a chill at his words. He was so serious, which I knew that he should be, but it was still disconcerting to not know what

was really going on.

Brian set his empty plate on the coffee table and leaned back, putting his arm around Clare's shoulders.

"How far can we ride?" I spoke up. "Without worrying, I mean?"

Brian and Adam exchanged a look, and then Brian said, "No further than the tree house right now for you, peach."

I sighed. This was awful.

Adam turned to Guthrie then. "No camping up in the hills for awhile, Guth."

Guthrie looked as dismayed as I felt. "Okay," he said.

Ford leaned forward from where he sat on the end of one of the couches. "I heard something in town yesterday," he said. "I didn't

think too much about it at the time. But now, knowing all of this-"

"What'd you hear?" Evan asked.

"I was talking to somebody, and they said that they'd had one of their fences cut, and it looked as though a herd of horses was run thru," Ford

said.

"Hmm," Adam said, looking thoughtful.

"Who?" Brian asked.

"Valerie," Ford said, obviously expecting somebody to start teasing him.

No one did, though.

"We should give Bill a call," Crane suggested, referring to Valerie's father. "See what his take on all of it is."

"Yeah. That's a good idea," Adam agreed.

"You should just relax the rest of tonight," Clare said.

"That's right," Hannah agreed.

Adam gave Hannah a half-smile. "You don't have to twist my arm. I'm beat. I think I could fall asleep right here and now."

Shortly after that, Adam went to bed, and Hannah went with him. Evan was on the phone with Nancy, and Daniel was enchonced in

a corner chair, scribbling on a piece of paper. I went to sit outside in the porch swing, watching the stars begin to come out.

I hadn't been outside very long when Ford joined me, a glass of something in his hand.

He paused beside the side of the swing. "Permission to climb aboard?" he asked comically.

I paused the swaying of the swing with one toe. "Permission granted," I told him.

Ford sat down beside me, and we both started the swing up again.  
"This whole thing is weird," I said.

"Definitely weird," Ford agreed.

"I don't want to sound like a big wimp or anything, but it was so scary last night," I told him.

"I believe it. I would have been scared, too," Ford said.

"Adam was great, though. He was so calm."

"Yeah," Ford said, in agreement. "He's good in situations like that."

I hooked my arm thru Ford's. "Have you ever noticed," I asked him, "how he's good in scary situations like that, but when one of us

is hurt or something, he's not calm at all?"

Ford chuckled a little. "Yeah. I've noticed."

We were quiet for a few moments, and then I asked, "What do you think is going on up there?"

"I don't know," Ford said, sounding worried. "I hope they figure it out pretty quick, though."

After another moment's quiet, he asked me, "So, are you tired from camping? Or are you stayin' up for awhile?"

"I snuck in a nap earlier," I said. "Why?"

"Let's go play some piano," he said.

"Oh, Ford, no," I groaned.

"Come on."

"Why?"

"I want you to play some stuff for me. Sort of test out my theory of you playin' by ear," he said.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," I complained, but he stood up and tugged me to my feet.

So for the next hour or so, we played the piano. First me, and then him. And then eventually Daniel joined in. We ended up getting silly, at least

I did, and laughing more than we played. Finally, at one point, I left them to it, both of them sitting on the piano bench, playing the keys

at each end. I laid on the couch, watching them, and listening, as they went from bouncy tunes to playing a duet of something I couldn't

remember hearing before. Something sort of slow, and haunting, yet beautiful. I plumped up a pillow under my head, and closed my eyes. I didn't remember

anything else until Daniel poked me awake sometime later, telling me to go upstairs to bed.

7

I woke up the next morning, stretching, and feeling happy as I remembered that I wasn't grounded any longer. I thought about calling Lori,

and asking for permission to go over to her house for awhile.

I got dressed and went downstairs, helping Hannah finish getting breakfast ready. Clare was sitting at the table already, a cup of tea in

front of her, and looking tired.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, as I set a plate of biscuits on the table.

"Fine," she said, and gave me a wan sort of smile.

As everybody came into the kitchen, finding their seats, and intent on breakfast, my brothers all started talking about what

work they were going to do that day. I was only half-listening to what they were saying, when Guthrie gave me a nudge in the ribs.

"Adam's talkin' to ya," he told me.

I leaned up a little, and looked Adam's way. "Sorry. What'd you say?" I asked him.

"I was sayin'," he said deliberately, raising his eyebrow at me, "that you can go with Guthrie and Evan, and help count the

cattle up in the west pasture."

"Okay," I said.

As everybody got to their feet, scooting in their chairs, Brian stopped me, "Where's the notebook?" he asked. "The one you used while we were doing

the inoculations?"

"On the desk, I think," I told him.

"Well, take that," he said. "Write stuff down. These two ya-hoos won't remember anything," he said, and gave a wide gesture towards

Evan and Guthrie.

Evan just shook his head, and went off towards the living room. Guthrie, however, finished his orange juice, sizing Brian up over the

top of his glass.

"I take offense at that," he said. "I think you might have me confused with somebody else-"

"Do you, now?" Brian asked, with a grin.

"I do," Guthrie affirmed. "I realize when a fella reaches a certain age, he begins to lose brain cells. He knows he's past his

prime in life. So he begins to strike out at others, those that are still young and-" here Guthrie paused, and stood up. "Those that

still have all their brain cells. They're jealous, those guys, and realize they're beginning to lose other things."

"Yeah?" Brian asked, joining in on the razing that Guthrie was doling out. He took a couple of steps closer to Guthrie. "Tell me more,

little brother."

"Well," Guthrie went on, with a wide grin, "These guys start to lose other things besides their memory-like their good looks, or their

truck in a parking lot-or," Guthrie paused dramatically, "their hair."

"I defy you, or anybody, to find one spot on my head that isn't covered with hair," Brian said, and then, with a quickness that

belied his nearly thirty years, he grabbed Guthrie, and began to tussle with him, rubbing his knuckles across Guthrie's head.

Guthrie began the scuffle by laughing, but by the time Brian had his arms wrapped around Guthrie, hoisting him up, Guthrie began

to struggle in earnest.

Hannah caught at a plate that nearly came off of the table as they knocked against it.

"Kindergarten is in session," she said, and stepped around Brian and Guthrie.

7


	4. A dog and a swagger

It was while Evan and Guthrie and I were riding that afternoon, that we had the first real scare. Well, for me, it was the

second one, since I'd been with Adam when the gunshots were ringing out over our heads.

We'd ridden for over an hour, and only managed to account for half of the cattle we were checking on. It was my job

to keep track in the notebook I was carrying in my pocket.

"Where d'ya think they're at?" Guthrie asked, as the three of us paused in our riding.

"I don't know," Evan said, looking across the distance, and taking off his hat to wipe an arm across

his forehead.

"It's weird," Guthrie said.

"Yeah. Somethin' feels off," Evan said.

"Like what?" Guthrie asked.

"I don't know," Evan admitted. "I can't put my finger on it."

"I'll check over there," he said then, pointing to a wooded area. "Guthrie, you check the last fence."

"What about me?" I asked him. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just sit tight a few minutes, and hang out here. Count out how many cattle exactly that we're short," Evan said, and rode off.

I pulled the notebook out of my shirt pocket, and flipped it open, as Guthrie took off the other direction. I was scanning

the numbers of the cow ear tags, and the check marks or lack of them that I'd marked beside.

I put the notebook back into my pocket when I was done counting, and sat there, enjoying the breeze interspersed with

the sunshine. I thought I heard a dog bark, and I tilted my head a little, listening. When it was quiet, I told myself

I'd been mistaken. Then I heard it again. A very slight yapping.

I turned to look behind me. I was only a short way from our line cabin, which we never use, really. Guthrie and Ford

and I used to play there when we were younger. I'd even bugged the boys until they let take an old set of curtains up

there and hung them on the dirty windows.

I considered for a short moment, and then turned Petra, riding back just a short ways. I could see the

roof of the line shack from where I sat, atop Petra. It was hard to see anything else, though. I listened again, straining

to hear. I wondered if there was somebody hanging around the line cabin. Maybe a hunter. Maybe one of my brothers

had given a friend permission to stay there.

I looked back from where I'd ridden from, to the spot that Evan had said to wait at. It wasn't that far. I swung down

from Petra, and walked to the edge of the ravine. If I slid down it a ways, then I'd be able to see better.

Maybe just a bit. I slid down, ending up on my bottom near the middle. I stood up and found a fir tree to step behind. I

was still a good bit away from the cabin. I watched, seeing nothing from that distance out of the ordinary. Then

a dog ran around the side of the cabin, yapping. A medium-sized dog, a light brown. The front door of the cabin was

flung open, and the dog ran inside. The door slammed shut again.

So there was someone there!

I could hear a raised voice, and I squeezed behind the tree, as though I could stay hidden. I would have gone back up the

ravine, but I thought I should wait now. Whoever was inside might come out and see me, struggling to climb up.

Then I told myself I was being silly. It was probably just one of Brian's hunting buddies.

Suddenly, a second after I heard rustling behind me, a hand came around, covering my mouth. It closed over me, another arm

around my front, before I even had a chance to see what the rustling had been. I struggled immediately, instinctively,

but the arm, and the hand, too, were both too strong.

"Harlie, it's me," said a whisper in my ear. And then he lowered his hand from my mouth, and I twisted to

look at Evan.

"Ev," I whispered back. "You scared me!"

"Quiet," he ordered, low, and looked towards the cabin. We stood there like that for a few minutes, I don't really know

how long. Both of us just watching, and listening.

There was the sound of the dog barking, from inside the cabin, and the sound of a man's voice, yelling, though it

was hard to make out the words.

Then, there was the sound of a revving motor, and a black ATV roared up in front of the cabin, and

a man got off. He wore a ball cap, pulled over his face, low, but the way he walked...

"Ev-" I whispered, but he held up a hand to me, warning me to stay still.

The man who'd just arrived shut off his ATV, and walked into the cabin without knocking. Evan waited a moment

or two longer, and then turned to me.

"Get back up to your horse," he said, really quiet.

"Are you coming?" I whispered, feeling my heart thumping with nervousness.

"Yeah, I'm comin'. Go on."

I scrambled up the ravine, stumbling a couple of times, and the last time, I felt a hand on my lower back,

giving me a push. It wasn't a particularly gentle push, either. At the top of the ravine, when we were out of sight

of the cabin, Evan dropped his hand, but before he did, he gave me a smack on the seat of my jeans that was

hard enough to nearly make me lose my footing.

I wanted to holler at the quickness and the sting, but I didn't, since it seemed we were still incognito. Evan reached

out and grabbed the reins of Diablo, interrupting the horse's grass nibbling. I picked up Petra's reins, and followed

him as he walked away from the edge of the ravine.

When we were a good distance away, back to where he'd told me to wait at to begin with, he turned on me,

looking furious. "What the hell are you thinkin'?" he demanded.

"I heard a dog-"

"So what? You heard a dog," he said in dismissal. "It wasn't your place to go skulking around down there."

"Well, I was right," I defended myself. "There is somebody down there, in the cabin-"

"You know better than to do somethin' like that," he said. "With everything that's goin' on around here

lately, why would you do somethin' so boneheaded? If I could sneak up behind you that way, what makes you think

somebody else couldn't have done the same thing?"

"I'm sorry!" I said. I could see he was absolutely, completely livid, and I realized that once again, I'd acted first,

without thinking. Angry at myself, I gave him a pleading look. "I should have waited for you."

"Yeah, you should've," he said shortly.

"I said I was sorry, Ev," I protested.

He gave me a hard look, and then turned to walk further, leading his horse. I followed behind, rubbing where

he'd smacked me. It was still stinging, and I wished I had enough nerve to say something, or tell him off about it,

but I knew I'd never get by with it. He'd just get more angry.

Even knowing all that, though, I found myself digging my hole deeper.

"So I'm boneheaded," I muttered, to his back, as I trailed behind him. "You didn't have to smack me so hard."

He stopped walking so quickly that I nearly plowed into him. He turned on me, and his voice wasn't low any

longer. "You want me to do it again?" he threatened.

Well, I sort of wilted. "No," I said.

He gave me another glare and then turned to start walking again.

For the one millionth time, I wondered how it was with other girls, that had brothers that they could yell

and scream at, order them around, and do anything without repercussions at all.

We reached a point, and Evan stopped walking. "We'll wait here for Guthrie," he said.

"Okay," I said.

I hesitated, watching his profile. "I think that was Seth, the boy going into the cabin."

Evan gave me a quick glance, frowning.

"You know," I prompted, "Seth. That kid from last year that-"

"I know who you mean," Evan interrupted.

"Well, I think that was him."

"It's pretty far away to be sure of somethin' like that," he pointed out.

"I know, but I think it was."

"Hmm," he said, looking thoughtful. "I didn't know he was even back around here again."

I shrugged in reply.

"Well, you can tell them that. We'll have to let the sheriff know what's goin' on," Evan said.

"What do you think is going on?" I asked him. "I mean, really going on."

"I don't know." He sighed, looking worried. "But I know one thing. We're gonna have to get our cattle out

of this area."

"Are they rustling cattle?" I asked, thinking that I might have hit upon the answer to the mystery.

He shook his head. "I don't know. I'm not sure it's that. But if they're moved in, like they own the place, then

our cattle might be in the way of rifle fire, or whatever they're up to."

"Why would Seth and whoever else it is, be staying in the cabin?" I pondered. "Maybe they just don't have anywhere

else to stay or something?"

Evan shook his head again. "I don't know."

"It's weird," I said.

"Yeah."

We could see Guthrie at a far distance, riding toward us.

"There he is," Evan said.

"Are we gonna keep looking for the other cattle?" I asked him.

"No. I don't want you, or Guthrie either, up here now. I wanna get home, let everybody know what's goin' on," Evan said.

"Okay." I hesitated, trying to read his face. "Am I still in the doghouse?"

He turned to look at me. "I ought to kick your butt. Doin' somethin' dumb like that. What if they'd seen you?"

I sighed, and he mounted Diablo, looking towards Guthrie, who was getting closer, as I climbed back up onto Petra.

After a couple of long moments Evan said, "I guess you're not in the doghouse."

"Okay," I said, relieved that he wasn't going to stay mad at me.

As we began to ride back, three across, Evan filled Guthrie in on what was going on. When he told Guthrie that I'd thought I

recognized Seth, Guthrie leaned forward in his saddle, his jaw tightening.

"Man, I knew it," he said. "That no-good, sorry son of a buck!"

"Can't accuse people without proof," Evan said.

"Well, but if Har thinks it's him," Guthrie said, all stirred up, "She ought to know what he looks like."

Guthrie was more agitated than I'd seen him be, in a long time. "We ought to come back up here at

dark tonight, and get up on the roof, and drop a couple of smoke bombs down the chimney," he said.

"Shut up, Guthrie," Evan said. He said it quiet-like, but he said it. And it got Guthrie's attention, too.

"How come?" Guthrie demanded.

"Because. You're not that stupid. Or," he paused, giving Guthrie a glare, "At least I hope you're not

that stupid."

"This from the same guy that was all gung-ho to give that Richard hell last year, because he

got too friendly with Har at some party," Guthrie reminded Evan. "That was you, remember? You organized

that little soiree."

"I know," Evan said. "But that was one guy. Some city kid. And besides, I regret that. I shouldn't

have taken you and Ford up there. You could have gotten into trouble, and it would have been my fault."

While I listened and Guthrie stared at Evan, disbelieving, Evan went on, "This situation here, it's

actually dangerous. There's guns involved. I mean, whoever is shooting near the reserve in the dark,

and running traffic in and out, they're up to somethin' big. And as of yet, we don't know if Seth and the other guy, if it is Seth, are

a part of all that, or not. So, to threaten to come up here and try to smoke them out, or somethin' else

stupid like that, well, you better just shut up now."

I could tell Guthrie didn't appreciate being talked to that way, but he tightened his jaw, and was

silent.

I thought over what Evan had said before, as we finished the ride home. He'd changed since he'd

gone to the college that day, to lead the posse of brothers in making Richard pay for what he'd done to me. I gave

Evan a look without seeming obvious. Yep. He'd changed. He'd grown up. All the way.

7

Back at home, we unsaddled our horses, each of us putting the tack away, and none of us saying much.

We could hear the sound of the Jeep's motor a few minutes later, and Adam came to the door of the barn, as

we were all leading our horses back out.

"Hey," he greeted us, pulling off his gloves. "How'd everything go?"

"Not so good," Evan said, and went on to explain that not only could we not locate a third of the cattle, but we

had a couple of guys instilled in our line cabin.

Adam's jaw tightened, much like Guthrie's had earlier. "Damn," he said.

"Harlie thinks one of them might be that Seth kid," Evan went on.

"That punk that was causin' trouble?" Adam demanded. "The one you got in a fight with at school, Guthrie?"

"Yes, sir, that's the one," Guthrie said, and I could tell he was still all riled up.

"The 'nails in the tires' kid," Adam went on, giving me a glance, and I felt my face turn a little red.

"Uh huh," I said, with a nod.

We'd been joined now by Daniel, and Crane as well. More talking. I made my exit, going inside to change to

shorts and a tank top, coming back downstairs to help Clare and Hannah start supper.

I told them both about the afternoon's drama, and while Clare looked concerned, Hannah looked more than concerned.

Worried. Closer to frightened.

When Adam came in, along with the rest of my brothers, he went to the sink to wash his hands, and Hannah

came up, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Hey," he greeted her, kissing her forehead.

"This is awful," she said.

"We don't know that the guys in the cabin have anything to do with the other things that are goin' on," he

said, sounding calm.

"We don't know that they don't, either," Hannah pointed out.

"She's got a point," Daniel said, and was rewarded for his comment by a dark look from Adam.

"I'm gonna go ahead and call the sheriff now, before I sit down to eat," Adam said, and went towards

the living room.

Everybody else started sitting down, and fixing their plates of food. The conversation consisted of

the cattle, and who was going to do what, and after about fifteen minutes, Adam came back. He sat down

at his own seat, and Daniel handed off the platter of meatloaf to him.

"What'd they say?" Brian asked him.

"They're gonna send somebody over," Adam said. "And then we'll go up there."

"Tonight?" Hannah asked, in surprise.

"Yeah."

At Hannah's look of worry, he said, "There's a lot of daylight left. It'll be alright."

By the time supper was over, and Clare and I had started doing up the dishes, we heard noise from

the living room, and the door opening and closing, and voices. Voices that weren't McFadden voices.

"The sheriff must be here," Clare said.

A moment or so later, Brian called to me. "Harlie! Comere."

I laid down my dishtowel, and went to the living room. The sheriff who had come just the day before, was standing there,

and a deputy, too, though a different one.

"Hello there, Harlie," the sheriff said.

"Hello," I said, going to stand beside Crane.

"Sit down," Brian told the men, and they both took a seat on one of the couches.

"Adam says you think you might know one of the fellas you saw up at your cabin today," the sheriff said.

I nodded. "I think so."

"And you think it is, who exactly?" he asked.

"His name is Seth Foreman. He used to go our school, last year," I said.

"You got a close enough look to believe that it was him?" the sheriff asked.

I began to feel a little nervous. I looked at Evan, who was sitting on the arm of the other couch, just listening.

"Well, not that close." I shot Evan a silent plea for help.

"About an eighth of a mile, or so," Evan said.

"That's a far piece to be able to recognize someone," the sheriff said. "I'm not doubting you, you understand, I just

need to be certain."

"Yes, sir," I said. I didn't know what else to say, really.

"What was it that made you think it was him? Since you couldn't see his face clearly?" he asked me then.

"It was the way he walked," I said, and everyone in the room looked at me as though they were puzzled. Well, except for

Guthrie.

He spoke up, from where he stood beside Brian. "I know what she means. He's got a real definite way that he walks."

The sheriff regarded both Guthrie and I with interest. "In what way?"

Guthrie looked at me, and I looked at him. "Well, he sort of swaggers," I said.

"Swaggers?"

"Yes, sir," Guthrie said, and walked a couple of feet, with a mimicking of Seth. "Sort of like that."

"Well, that would be fairly definite, alright," the sheriff said, and I thought he looked a little amused.

"Where does this boy live?" the sheriff asked then. "Around here? I'm not familiar with the name."

"He's got a cousin, Joe," Daniel contributed to the conversation. "And an uncle in Murphys."

"He's been gone for a while," Guthrie threw in. "He left last fall and went somewhere else. To live with his dad, I heard."

"Well, the way a fellow walks isn't necessarily enough to accuse, but we'll check it out," the sheriff said. "Let's take a

run up there then, and see what we can find out," he added, and got to his feet. "What about the other man? The one inside the

cabin?" he asked then, pausing, his hat in his hand.

"We didn't see him," Evan said. "Only heard him yellin' from inside."

"They had a dog, too," I spoke up. "I don't know if that's important or not."

"It might be," the sheriff said, looking at me. "What sort of dog?"

"Medium sized. Sort of a light brown," I said.

"Alright. Thank you, kids," he said to Guthrie and I, and he and his silent deputy went out onto the front porch, waiting

as Adam, Brian and Crane got their rifles and followed them out.

Clare was standing there, and she was wringing her hands together. "I don't like this. Not at all," she said.

Daniel gave her a side hug. "It'll be fine," he said.

"I need to keep busy," she said. "Has Isaac had his bath?" she asked Hannah.

"Not yet."

"I'll do it," Clare said, and scooped Isaac up from where he was playing on his blanket on the floor. "Come on, little man."

After she'd walked away, carrying Isaac up the stairs, and everybody else started going back to their own chores, I sat there for

a long few moments, thinking. Things were getting more strange all the time. I couldn't help the shiver that ran down my back.

7B47B


	5. Wishing on a star

It was after dark before Adam, Brian and Crane returned home. Everybody was still up, waiting to hear what they had to say, except

for Ford, who had fallen asleep on the couch.

Clare went out onto the porch to greet Brian, as he came up the front steps. "Are you alright?" she asked, sounding anxious.

"I didn't go off to war, darlin'," he said, kissing her on the top of the head.

"You know what I mean," she insisted.

"I'm fine," he said.

Hannah was waiting beside the screen door, holding it open for them to pass thru. "I've got some hot coffee ready," she said

quietly.

"Thanks," Adam said, and wrapped an arm around her waist as they all filed inside. I went to help Hannah bring in a tray

with the coffee pot and cups on it.

Crane took Adam's rifle from him, and went to put them away in the gun cabinet. Brian followed, putting his away, as well.

Adam sank down onto the couch, tugging Hannah down with him, and she handed him a cup of the steaming coffee.

"Well?" Guthrie demanded, sitting down on the arm of the recliner, a glass of tea in his hand. "What happened?"

Crane went to sit down, too, stretching his long legs out in front of him, and I went to sit beside him.

"Sheriff was able to talk to one of the guys. He was still inside when we got there," he said.

"Was it Seth?" Guthrie asked.

"No. Says his name is Stewart Fletcher," Crane went on.

"Any of you know somebody by that name?" Brian asked, looking at Evan and Daniel, and even Guthrie and I.

There was a collective agreement that none of us had heard of him. Ford was sitting up now, rubbing a hand over his eyes,

his blond hair sticking up in tufts, from where he'd been laying down.

"How about you, Ford?" Brian asked. "Heard of anybody named Stewart Fletcher?"

Ford looked thoughtful, and then shook his head slowly. "Not off the top of my head," he said.

"Maybe it's a fake name," I suggested.

"Did they arrest him?" Hannah asked then.

"No. Just told him to clear out. He claims not to know that he was on private property," Brian said, with a huffing sound that stated his

opinion of that.

"He just thought there was a cabin there, for him to use, that didn't belong to anybody?" Guthrie scoffed.

"That's what he said," Adam said. "He's not saying much, as yet."

"What did he say he was doing there?" Clare asked, snuggling more into Brian's side.

"Says he came across it while he was hunting for his dog, so he decided to spend a couple of days there," Crane said.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of," Guthrie exclaimed. "He's lying."

"Hal will get it figured out, Guth," Adam said.

"Well, what about Seth?" I asked.

"Fletcher, or whatever his name is, claims not to know Seth, and denies there being anybody else there at the cabin with

him," Adam said.

"Did they tell him that Evan and I saw somebody else, though?" I asked. "Riding up on a four-wheeler?"

"They told him, sugar," Adam said. "He denied it."

"Oh," I said, a little disconcerted by this news.

"Well, are they gonna at least go talk to Seth, and ask him some questions?" Guthrie asked.

"They will," Crane said. "But they can't just accuse somebody, with no evidence."

"How about staking it out, up there?" Guthrie went on. "Then maybe they can catch him, and whoever else is involved."

Guthrie and I exchanged a glance, and I knew we were in complete agreement as to what we thought should be done next.

Adam set his coffee cup on the table in front of him, and leaned back, looking towards Brian and Crane, and then back at Guthrie.

"This is in the sheriff's hands," Adam said. "They'll handle it how they think best."

"Well, yeah," Guthrie acknowledged. "But-"

"Guthrie," Adam said, his voice strong, and Guthrie stopped talking, giving Adam his full attention.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't take on any notions of doin' something on your own. We don't know what we're up against yet here, and we don't

want any of you getting hurt," Adam told him.

"I don't have any notions," Guthrie said, in a joking manner, but Adam didn't smile at his levity.

"I'm serious, Guth," he said, sounding stern.

They held eyes for a couple of long moments, and then Guthrie nodded. "Okay," he said, though he didn't sound pleased.

Adam's serious gaze swung towards me, sitting beside Crane in the oversized chair. "That goes for you too," he told me.

"Okay," I said.

In a lighter tone, Brian addressed Daniel, Evan and Ford. "That goes for all you babies," he said.

Daniel held up a protesting hand. "I'm totally okay with that," he said, and then added with a grin, "Until you old guys need some

help, and then we'll be here, waiting."

"I'm gettin' a little tired of all this 'old guy' talk I've been getting lately," Brian said, in a warning tone, but I could tell he was just

teasing, too.

He got up and made a move towards Daniel, who bobbed to the right, and then to the left, as if to avoid an attack from Brian.

"I'm ready," Daniel teased him.

"I'd clean the floor with you," Brian told him, and then went off towards the kitchen, saying that he was going to get

a piece of pie.

Shortly after that, Daniel announced he was going into town for awhile, and Evan went with him.

Guthrie and I hung out together after that, before we went to bed. We sat on the front steps of the porch, both of us

with our legs stretched out in front of us.

"Can you believe it?" I asked him. "You're going to be a senior when school starts!"

"Yeah."

"Are you glad?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I am, in a way. I'm ready to get out of school and start workin', and earn some money."

"You work here at home," I told him.

"You know what I mean," Guthrie said. "I can make good money as a welder. I'll be able to help out a lot more around here, too."

I thought about that for a long moment. And then I brought up the subject which I'd discussed with Guthrie before, in previous

talks that we'd had, about the plans we had for starting to raise some high-quality horses to sell when we were both older.

"You're still up for the horse breeding idea, right?" I asked him.

"Yeah. I've been thinkin' about it. I've got a few ideas."

"Like what?" I asked, turning to face him, and folding my legs up underneath me.

"I think we should stick with the plan of Quarter horses," Guthrie said.

"I'd still like to do Appaloosas," I objected.

"Too showy," Guthrie said.

"Exactly why they'll be an easy sell," I told him.

We argued back and forth, in a good-natured way, for a few minutes, until Crane came outside, letting the screen door

flap shut behind him. I could smell his cologne, even though I couldn't see clearly what shirt and boots he was wearing, in the dusk, and

I knew that he was going out.

"What are you two monkeys up to?" he asked us.

"Planning out the future," I told him.

"Ah," Crane said.

"Do you have a date with Cindy?" I asked him, as he paused beside us.

"I do."

"Tell her hi from me," Guthrie said, and laughed a little. "Just tell her the greeting is from your best lookin' brother. She'll know."

Crane made a 'humph' sound of acknowledgement. "I'll do that."

He tapped the top of my head as he passed by on his way down the steps. "Don't stay up too late, monkeys," he said, and

went on his way, to start up the Jeep and drive down the driveway.

We watched the taillights of the Jeep disappear, and I said, "I hope Cindy and him end up together. Don't you?"

"She's nice," Guthrie acknowledged. "But I don't think Crane's ready to get married."

"Why do you say that?" I asked curiously.

"I don't know. Just a feeling that I have."

"What about Evan?" I asked then. "He told me that he wants to marry Nancy."

"Yeah?" Guthrie asked, sounding surprised.

"Well," I amended, "He said 'some day'. But I still think it will be soon."

"Nancy's alright," Guthrie said. "I think she's good for Evan."

"I do, too," I agreed.

After that, we were both quiet for awhile, watching as the stars began popping out in the sky.

"There's the first star," I said. "Remember how we used to wish on it?"

"Yeah. I remember."

"Let's do it again," I said. "Just for fun, okay?"

"Ah, man," Guthrie gave a groan. "You're crazy."

"Come on, Guth. Please?" I wheedled.

"Oh, alright," he agreed, and we were both silent, as we made our respective wishes. After a moment, I spoke up.

"So?" I asked him, poking him in the ribs. "What did you wish for?"

"For Pete's sake," Guthrie said, "You know the rules. I can't tell you, or it won't come true, hyena."

I laughed then, sounding like the hyena that Guthrie was always calling me.

We went inside shortly after that, where Guthrie was intent on getting some milk and cookies. I thought about the wish

that I'd made, and, even though it was childish, I hoped that it would come true.

7


	6. Nosy or no?

The next morning, armed again with their rifles, Brian and Crane and Evan went back to where we'd been before, to search for the missing

cattle. It had figured out to be about twenty-two head that we were missing.

They were gone until the afternoon, arriving home hot and tired, and hungry, and driving twelve cattle down. After the cattle had been

put back with the rest of the herd, we sat down to an early supper due to them not having had any lunch. Over pulled pork sandwiches,

and cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden, they filled everybody else in on how the search for the cattle had gone. The twelve that

they had located had been gathered together. Further up than what Evan and Guthrie and I had trailed them.

"You didn't see others, besides the ones you brought in?" Adam asked, looking concerned.

"Not a trace of 'em," Brian said, reaching for the barbeque sauce.

"Makes no sense," Adam said, almost to himself.

"It makes perfect sense, if cattle rustling is what's going on around here," Brian said.

For a moment the table was silent. And then Clare turned her face up to look at Brian. "Is that what you think?" she asked.

Brian hesitated, and then reached for his iced tea, wrapping his fingers around the cold glass.

"I don't know what I think exactly," he admitted.

"Well, where could they have gone to?" Hannah asked, looking down the table at Adam.

Adam shook his head in response. "I don't know," he said, sounding worried, and grim at the same time.

"What I do know is this," Adam went on. "We need to find those other ten cows. We can't afford a loss like that."

"Could they have gotten onto one of the neighboring ranches?" Clare suggested.

"They would have called us," Crane told her.

"Well, now what?" Hannah asked. "I mean, what do we do now?"

"Keep lookin' for the cattle," Adam said. "And keep our eyes and ears open. Here at home. And in town, too. Never know

what you might hear around town."

As if that reminded them all that Daniel's chair at the table was empty, Brian nodded towards it, and asked, "Where's Danny?"

"He went to town," Ford offered.

"Again?" Brian asked, scooting his chair away from the table, and getting to his feet. "He have a new girl, or somethin'?"

Nobody really answered. I didn't, because I didn't know if it was true or not. Guthrie shrugged in reply, and Evan said, "Beats me."

The only one who looked even a bit knowledgeable about Brian's question was Ford, who reached for another sandwich, and avoided

looking at anyone else.

"Does he, Ford?" Hannah asked, curiously. "Have a date with someone in Murphys?"

"Not that I know of," Ford said, busy pouring bbq sauce onto his bun, and sounding vague.

"Well, the least he can do is stay home once in awhile," Brian grumbled. "He's still tryin' to live the city life."

"He did his work," Crane defended. "He's entitled to go out if he wants to."

"You used to go out a lot," Evan offered, from his side of the table, directing his comment to Brian.

Brian paused in his pouring of a fresh cup of coffee. "Well, I know that," he said.

Clare had gotten up by now, and gone to lean into Brian's side. "Just how often was it that you used to go out?" she asked, smiling

up at him.

Before Brian could answer, Evan chimed in, with a grin. "Only every single night of the week."

"Oh?" Clare asked.

"I don't think it was every single night," Brian denied, wrapping an arm around Clare's waist.

"It was an awful lot," I threw in, and then gave Brian a sweet smile when he tossed me a dark look.

Everybody was laughing at all the joking around, when the telephone rang. I got up first, and said, "I'll get it!" and

and ran thru to the living room.

My 'hello' was breathless.

"Hey, squirt," Daniel's voice answered me. "Crane around?"

"He's eating supper," I volunteered.

"Well, get him for me, would ya?"

"Did the Jeep break down?" I asked him.

"No. Go on and get Crane now," he urged.

There was something about his voice. I couldn't tell just what, but I sensed that something was up. Or something was off somehow. One

of those.

"What's happening?" I asked.

"Nothin' that you need to worry about," Daniel said, in that maddening way that older brothers talk. This comment only confirmed to

me that there was, indeed, something of interest or concern happening.

"Just Crane?" I asked then, fishing for more information. "You don't want to talk to anybody else?"

"Listen, brat, you're starting to get on my nerves," Daniel informed me. "Do like I tell you. Now."

"Okay, fine, crabapple," I accused. "I'll go get him."

"Thank you," Daniel said, with a sigh that suggested I was an annoyance.

I laid the receiver down on the table louder than was necessary, hoping it was ricocheting off of Daniel's ear.

I went back to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway. "Crane, Daniel wants to talk to you."

"What's up?" he asked me, as he got to his feet.

"I don't know. He's being all secretive about it," I complained. Crane grinned, and paused beside me long enough to

kiss the top of my head.

"More like you're being Miss Nosy Nellie," he corrected.

"No such thing," I objected.

I watched him walk with his long stride to the living room.

"Come and finish your supper," Hannah told me, from her end of the table.

I went back over to my seat beside Guthrie. When the conversation at the table rose over a certain level again, I nudged

Guthrie in the ribs. "Something's up with Daniel," I said, low.

He raised his eyebrow, looking mildly curious, and as soon as we'd helped clear the table, we both made our way outside.

"So what's up with Daniel?" he asked me.

"I don't know. He wouldn't say. But it's something."

"How come you say that?" Guthrie demanded.

"I can just tell," I said.

"Oh, Har, good grief," Guthrie said, obviously not in the mood for my investigative suspicions.

I was getting ready to say more when the screen door opened, and Crane came out, heading down the steps.

"See?" I whispered to Guthrie.

"Where you goin', Crane?" Guthrie asked.

"To meet up with Daniel," Crane said.

"How come?" Guthrie asked.

Crane paused at the middle step, turning to look back up at us. "Seriously, Guth?" he accused, and gave me a telling glance, as if I was

causing Guthrie's inquisitiveness.

"I was just askin'," Guthrie protested.

"Yeah. Don't blame me," I said, in defense.

Crane shook his head, and went on down the steps, climbing into the truck, and starting it up.

"Wanna go with me to the movies?" Guthrie offered then.

"Are you picking Kristin up?" I asked.

"Yeah. At least, I'm gonna go by the restaurant and see if she wants to go."

"Sure," I agreed.

We both went inside, and sought out an adult McFadden. Brian and Clare had disappeared, as had Evan, but Adam and Hannah

were still in the kitchen. They were alternately washing and drying dishes, between quick kisses.

Guthrie and I looked at each other, grinning at seeing them that way.

Guthrie cleared his throat, in an over-exaggerated way, and they both turned to look at us.

"What are you two up to?" Hannah asked.

"Thinkin' about goin' to the movies," Guthrie said.

"With Kristin?" Hannah asked then, turning to face us, while Adam wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I thought I'd ask her," Guthrie said. "It okay if I go?"

"Be home by curfew," Adam said.

"I will," Guthrie said.

I stood there beside Guthrie, just smiling at Adam a little. "What about you, baby girl?" he asked, smiling back at me.

"Guthrie invited me along," I said. "Can I go?"

"Home by eleven," Adam said.

I nodded in agreement, and we both headed upstairs to change out of our chore clothes. As we went up the stairs, Guthrie

suggested we stop and see if Kenny wanted to go along with us.

I had already come to the conclusion that Kenny and I were better off just being friends. That's what we had been the majority

of our growing up years. And that's how I still thought of him. I was pondering just how to approach the subject with Guthrie. I didn't want

him aggravated with me for not wanting to date one of his friends, like he'd been when I hadn't wanted to date Tony Williams any more.

"I have an idea," I said, as a sudden thought occurred to me.

"What?"

"I'll tell you when we're ready to go," I told him, and we both separated to go change our clothes.

Once I came out of my bedroom, wearing a sleeveless yellow shirt and my good jeans, I carried my boots in my hand as I went

down the stairs. I went to look up a number in the telephone book, and then after I made my call, I went to talk to Hannah and Adam

while I waited for Guthrie to come downstairs.

As we pulled out of the end of our long driveway, I told Guthrie who I had called.

7


	7. Chance encounter

When I told Guthrie that I'd called Steven Yager, he turned and squinted at me a little.

"How come?" he asked.

"Because. He's nice. And fun," I said.

"I thought you only went out with him that one time," Guthrie said, speaking of the evening that I'd ended up in the

hospital with a blood sugar crash.

"Yeah, that's right."

At Guthrie's puzzled look, I added, "He's nice, Guth. And we're just friends."

"Does he know that's all it is?" Guthrie asked.

"I'll make sure he knows it," I promised.

We picked Steven up in front of the grocery store in town, where he'd agreed to meet us. He got out of his own

vehicle and climbed into Guthrie's truck, giving us both a wide smile.

"I'm sure glad you called," he said with enthusiasm. "We've got relatives visiting, and I'm glad to get away from

my little cousins."

"It's gonna be fun," I told him, smiling back.

We pulled up in front of the café, and all three of us went inside, where we greeted Kristin, and Guthrie asked her about the

movie.

"I've got to work for twenty more minutes," Kristin said. "Will that make it too late?"

"Naw. That'll work," Guthrie said, and the three of us went to sit in a booth.

When Marie came out of the back room a few minutes later, and spotted us sitting there, she came right over

to us. Guthrie and I both got up, stepping out of the booth to greet Marie with a hug.

"Where have you two been hiding?" she asked us, hugging Guthrie first, and then me. "It seems forever since I saw

you last."

With a sense of guilt, I realized that I hadn't been in to talk to Marie in a few weeks. Of course, part of that time, I'd been

grounded and not allowed to drive.

"We'll do better," I promised her, and she pinched my cheek affectionately, looking at Steven.

"Who's this?" she asked.

I introduced Steven and Marie, and she nodded. "I think I know your daddy," she said. "He's partial to my blueberry cobbler when

he comes in."

"What are you kids up to tonight?" she asked us then.

"Going to Angels Camp to see a movie," Guthrie told her.

"Come back by here when you're done, and you can all have some pie, on the house," Marie said.

"Thanks, Marie," Guthrie said.

When Kristin was done, and had clocked out, the four of us went outside, pausing on the sidewalk.

"I smell like French fries," Kristin said.

"Better than perfume," Guthrie told her, and I rolled my eyes at his corny compliment.

We crowded into Guthrie's truck. It was a tight squeeze, but nobody seemed to mind. We talked a little bit as we drove about

what was going on around, with the shots being fired, and the missing cows. Guthrie asked Steven if they were missing any

of their cattle, and he said no.

"There was some trouble at the Hart's place, though," Steven volunteered. "Somebody with a big truck drove right thru

their fence and across their pasture."

The Hart's ranch was fairly close to ours, and Guthrie and I exchanged a look.

"We hadn't heard that," Guthrie said.

"Have you found out about the blood you and Adam saw yet?" Kristin asked. "I mean, whether it was human?"

"Not yet," I told her.

"We should know somethin' soon, though," Guthrie added.

"It's crazy," Kristin said.

"Yeah," the rest of us all said at the same time, and then we laughed, and didn't talk anymore about it right then.

7

When we got to the movie theater in Angels Camp, Guthrie paid for his and Kristin's, and my tickets. Steven paid for his own,

though he offered to pay for mine as well.

Before we went into the dark movie theater, Steven bought popcorn, two big tubs, so we could all have some.

The movie, 'Lethal Weapon', was an action-filled movie. It wasn't really my type of movie, but I still enjoyed it.

Walking out later, Kristin and I both agreed that Mel Gibson was a handsome guy.

We drove back to Murphys, laughing, and singing along with the radio.

"Wanna stop at Marie's?" Guthrie asked, as we got closer.

"Do you want to?" I asked Steven. "Marie's pies are the best."

"Sure. That sounds fun," he said.

We parked a short distance from the café, since there were still cars parked out front.

"I wonder if Daniel and Crane are still in town," I said, looking at Guthrie.

Guthrie looked back at me, with a mischieveous grin. "Wanna look for them?" he asked.

"Okay," I agreed, and so, instead of going into the café, the four of us began to walk along the sidewalks. Most of

the stores were closed by now, although there were lots of cars in front of Butch's, and in front of the bar, of course.

"They're not at the bar," I said, as we paused to the side of the building, which was in need of a paint job.

"Jeeps not here," Guthrie agreed.

We poked our heads inside the swinging doors of the bar for a minute, where there was no sign of either Daniel or Crane.

There was, however, loud laughter ringing out, and, as we would have gone on our way, I heard a yipping, and paused

to look again. I pushed against the swinging door, peering into the darkness of the bar.

"What is it?" Kristin asked, coming back to stand beside me, as Guthrie and Steven walked on.

"Somebody brought their dog to the bar," I told her, not sure if I thought that was funny, or just wrong.

"Really? Where?" she asked, leaning in beside me.

"Over there," I said, and then I tried to focus on the dog in question. A medium-sized dog. Sort of a brown color.

At least it looked sort of brown from where I stood.

"That's the dog I saw up at our cabin," I said.

"Really? Are you sure?" Kristin asked.

"Pretty sure."

"Well, there must be a lot of dogs that look like that," Kristin argued.

"Uh huh," I said vaguely, and stepped on into the bar a bit further.

"Harlie, come out," Kristin hissed at me.

"I'm just looking," I said, and then, when a voice spoke from right beside me, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Can I help you with somethin', Harlie?" a gruff voice asked, and I turned to see Mickey Jones, owner of the bar,

right next to me. The music from the jukebox had obviously kept me from hearing him approach.

"Um, no, sir," I said. "I was just looking for someone-"

"Haven't seen any of your brothers tonight," he answered.

"Oh. Okay," I said, trying to appear nonchalant.

"You'd best be gettin' on," Mickey said then. "You're not supposed to be in here, you know."

"Okay," I said, and stepped out, nearly stumbling over Kristin in the process.

"I can't believe you just did that," Kristin said, her eyes wide.

"Guthrie!" I called, and he turned from his spot on down the sidewalk to look at me.

"What?" he hollered back.

I motioned him to come back, and when he hollered, "What?" again, I motioned more vigorously.

He and Steven came back to where we stood. "What d'ya want?" Guthrie demanded.

"There's a dog in there," I said, motioning to inside the bar.

"So what?"

"I think it's the same dog that Evan and I saw up at the line cabin!" I said. "And if it is, then the guy that was inside the cabin

might be in there, too!"

"No way," Guthrie scoffed.

"I'm pretty sure," I said, and he elbowed me aside.

"Let me see," he said, and peered into the inner sanctum of the bar. "Where is it?" he asked.

I stuck my head inside again. "Watch out," I warned. Mickey saw me a few minutes ago."

"Dumb Dora," Guthrie accused me. "Don't know how to do anything without gettin' caught at it."

"Well, go on then, smarty-pants," I told him.

So Guthrie cast a look around for Mickey, and then ran his gaze over the crowd inside. Hank Williams crooned

from the jukebox.

"I don't see a dog anywhere," Guthrie said, after a few minutes.

"He was over that way," I insisted, pointing.

"Naw. Let's go," Guthrie said. "I don't see anything."

We'd started down the sidewalk again, when there was a commotion of laughter, and we looked back. A guy carrying

the medium sized dog came halfway out of the bar door, and then paused, and still laughing, went back inside.

"See, I told you!" I said triumphantly.

"It wasn't Seth, was it?" Guthrie asked, looking fierce.

"No. At least I don't think it was," I said. "He went back in awfully fast."

"It wasn't Seth," Kristin agreed.

"Who is this Seth guy?" Steven asked, as the four of us huddled together, talking.

"He's a horrible person," Kristin said.

"Scum of the earth," Guthrie added.

"We'll tell you later," I told Steven. Then to Guthrie, I said, "Well? Are we gonna try to find out who that guy is?"

"Well," Guthrie said, looking considering, "Let me think a minute."

"I'll go to Marie's, and call Mickey on the phone, and then you can go inside and try to find out, while he's distracted," I suggested.

"We don't need to find out who he is," Guthrie reminded me. "Remember? The sheriff already talked to him. They know who

he is. And he claimed he didn't know he was on private property."

"Yeah," I said, in remembrance. "But maybe he's talking about it in there to somebody. We might find out what he was really

doing up there."

"Hmm," Guthrie said, in thought.

"I don't think you should," Kristin objected.

"I'll go around to the back," Guthrie finally decided. "I'll watch and listen from back there, thru the open windows."

"That's dumb," I told him, but he said, "Come on, Steven."

And then, to Kristin and I, he added, "You girls stay here."

As he and Steven went around to the back of the bar, Kristin and I waited, leaning against the front of the building.

A few short minutes later, and the brown dog trotted out, pausing to sniff at Kristin and I, and then, the same guy came out and

stumbled towards a gray truck parked in front.

"Rufe!" he called to the dog, and the dog obediently turned from Kristin and I and went to him.

He lifted the dog, and put her into the truck thru the open window, and then came back towards us, obviously intent

on going back inside the bar.

This was my chance, and I seized it. "I like your dog," I said, and the guy paused a moment.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking at me glaze-eyed.

"Yeah. What sort of a dog is it?" I asked.

"He's an Australian-Australian shepherd," he said.

"Well, he's beautiful," I said.

"Yeah," the guy said, and stumbled on past us, going back inside.

"I need to work on my flirting skills," I muttered, and then said, "Come on," to Kristin.

"What are you doing now?" she asked, following me.

"Stay over there by the door," I told her. "Watch out and tell me if you see him coming back."

"Harlie, are you crazy?" she hissed, as I went to the driver's window of the truck.

I waved her back, and said, "Hello, boy," to the dog. "Rufe. Is that your name, huh?" I let the dog smell my hand,

and then scratched behind his ears.

"Is it okay if I reach in here?" I asked the dog, as I began to pick up papers on the dash of the truck. Hunting magazines. And others.

Penthouse. A nearly-naked girl smiled from the front cover, and I dropped it in a hurry. Yuck.

Looking in the seat of the truck I saw tools. Hammers. Ropes. Styrofoam cups. Nothing that made the contents of

his truck out of the ordinary.

I was reaching for another piece of paper off the dash to read when Kristin gave a quick, low whistle.

"Hey," she hissed. "He's coming out!"

I drew my hand back, as the guy approached me. I didn't have time to move away from the truck, so

I just leaned there, trying to look casual.

"What are you doin'?" he demanded of me.

"I was just petting your dog," I said, blurting out the first thing that came to my mind.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking as though he didn't believe me.

"Yeah. I like your truck, too," I added, trying to smile at him.

"Yeah?" he asked again, coming closer to me.

"Uh huh," I said, and I could see Kristin behind him, motioning wildly to me to come. She looked panicked. I felt

that way, but tried hard not to show it.

"Do you live around here?" I asked then, as he stared at me, bleary-eyed.

I thought he looked as though he was in his late twenties or around there. He wasn't bad looking, but I don't think he'd

taken a bath for awhile.

"Nope," he said. "At least, not for very long."

"Oh," I said, wondering what he meant by that.

"How 'bout you?" he asked, stepping even closer to me. By now he was practically up on me, leaning one hand

on the side of the truck. "You live nearby?"

"Um, no," I said, trying to think fast. "I'm just visiting somebody here."

He peered closer at me, and then reached out to lift one of my wayward curls. I saw Kristin sprint from her spot and

run toward the back of the bar, and I knew she'd gone to fetch Guthrie.

I felt the panic rise higher. Guthrie would go crazy, and try to fight. We'd both be in trouble at home.

I stepped around him, and said, "I need to get going."

He caught at my wrist. "What's your hurry?"

"I'm late," I said, and tried another smile. It must have been a good smile, as far as he was concerned, because his

grip loosened. I hurried over to the side of the bar, and then went around to the back, so I could meet up with Guthrie, rather

than have him charge around front.

"Hi," I said, breathlessly, as I ran nearly smack-dab into Guthrie, followed shortly by Kristin and Steven.

"Where's the guy?" Guthrie said, really loud, and I pulled at his arm to stop him.

"Shh," I said.

"Don't shush me," he said, yanking his arm loose. "Kristin says-"

"It's okay," I said, trying to sound soothing. "He's leaving. Just let him go."

Guthrie charged on past me, and to the front of the bar, with us following him. The guy was behind the wheel of his truck

and was starting the motor. I tugged hard on Guthrie, telling him that the guy hadn't done anything.

"What were you doin'?" Guthrie demanded of me, and I was relieved that he was letting the guy drive away.

"I was just looking-to see if I could find out anything about him, you know?" I said.

"And he caught you?" Guthrie looked shocked.

"No," I said quickly. "He thought I was just petting his dog."

Guthrie stood and stared at me, and while he wasn't shouting at me, I could tell he was mad. But he put a lid on it,

and to Kristin and Steven it appeared that he was alright.

"Let's go to Marie's," he said, and we all went over to the café, where Marie served us up pie with ice cream on top.

I knew I shouldn't eat that much sugar, but since I hadn't eaten any candy at the movies, I told myself it would be alright.

Marie asked how the movie had been, and sat and talked to us for awhile.

When she said that she'd seen us drive by earlier, and asked where we'd been for the last thirty minutes, we all looked

at one another, and then Guthrie said, "We were just lookin' for Crane and Daniel. Messin' around."

Marie nodded, but I thought that she looked questioning, though she didn't say anything at that particular moment.

After we left the café, Steven went to his own truck, and we drove Kristin home.

"You could spend the night," I told her, both because I wanted her to do so, and also for the fact that I wasn't

anxious to have Guthrie begin to fuss at me.

"I would, but I have to go to work early tomorrow," Kristin said.

So we dropped Kristin off, and I waited for him to say something. When he just popped a piece of gum in his

mouth, and didn't say anything for a few minutes, I turned sideways in the truck seat to face him.

"I was just trying to see if I could find out anything," I defended myself.

"It was stupid," he said shortly.

"He believed me when I said I was just petting his dog," I insisted.

"Stupid," he repeated.

"Stop calling me stupid!"

"It's the truth," he said.

"You're the one who wanted to throw smoke bombs down the chimney at the cabin," I reminded him. "All I

did was look at a few papers and stuff."

"The difference is-I didn't actually do it," he said.

I huffed at him, and flopped against the door of the truck. "Okay, boss man," I muttered under my breath.

I meant it just the way that it sounded. It was not meant as a compliment.

Guthrie glared at me. He knew just how I meant it, too.

"Let's not fight," I said.

When he was silent, I accused, "Or do you WANT to fight?"

"No."

"Okay," I said, and after a couple of minutes, he threw his wadded up gum wrapper at my head.

"Are we going to tell everybody else about seeing that guy?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said, looking thoughtful.

"I think I should tell Adam," I said, after another few moments.

"Tell him what, though?" Guthrie asked. "We're not even sure that's the same dog or same guy that were up at the cabin."

"I'm sure about the dog, Guth."

"Well," he said, and shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe we should. You goin' to tell him about rooting thru his truck, too?"

"Well, no," I said. "I'm not crazy."

7


	8. Daniel in overdrive

Adam was waiting up for Guthrie and I when we got home, and he asked us if we'd had a good time.

We both said yes. I thought he looked tired. I knew that he'd been up since nearly dawn that morning, and going at

it full speed all day. Combine that with worry about the missing cattle, and I know that I didn't imagine the lines of

fatigue and stress on his face.

Guthrie bounded up the steps ahead of us, and Adam and I walked beside each other.

At my bedroom door, we all three paused, and Guthrie nodded at me. An indication, I knew, to tell him what we'd talked

about.

"We think we saw the guy that was up at the cabin," I said.

"That Seth kid?" Adam asked, misunderstanding.

"No. Not Seth. The guy that was inside the cabin," I explained. "The one that the sheriff talked to."

Immediately there were even more furrows lining Adam's forehead. "You didn't see him that day, did you? You or Evan?"

"No, but he had that dog with him," I said. "And I'm sure it was the same dog."

"Harlie," Adam began, with a sigh, and I knew he was getting ready to tell me there were any number of dogs

that looked similar in appearance.

And, sure enough. "How would you know that it was the same dog?" he pointed out.

"I just think it was," I said.

"Well, alright," he said. "So where did you see this fella at?"

"He was at the bar," Guthrie said.

Adam raised an eyebrow. "And you two happened to see him at the bar, how exactly?"

I explained how we were going to the café to eat pie, but were walking around, hoping to find Crane and Daniel.

"And then we saw him bring his dog out," I finished.

Guthrie went on to tell Adam what Steven had told us about someone or something knocking down our neighbor's

fence.

"Hmm," Adam said, looking thoughtful, and still worried. "Well, you kids better get to bed."

He laid a hand on my shoulder for a moment, and then did patted Guthrie on the back as he made his way down the

hallway to his and Hannah's bedroom.

"He looks really tired," I said quietly.

"Yeah," Guthrie agreed.

We both watched Adam as he walked away, until he got to their bedroom, and went in, closing the door.

We said goodnight to each other, and went to bed.

During breakfast the next morning, the phone rang, and I was the first one up to run and answer it.

After my 'Hello?' a man's voice asked to speak to Adam, or to Brian. I went back to the kitchen and gave them the

message. They looked at each other in question over who was going to go, and Brian scooted his chair away from the

table, and said, "I've got it."

Breakfast went on, the kitchen loud with all the conversations going on at the same time, and food and juice being

passed back and forth.

When Brian came back, he told Adam that it had been the sheriff on the telephone, calling with the results of

the testing that they'd done on the blood we'd seen.

Everybody sort of quieted down to hear that.

"Not human," Brian said, sitting back down in his spot at the table, and reaching for the plate of bacon. "It's animal blood."

For a moment there was silence as everybody took that in.

"Hmm," Adam said.

"What sort of animal blood?" I asked.

"They don't know that," Brian told me.

They all went all talking then, contemplating if the animal whose blood it was, had been killed on the spot by another

animal, or by a human.

Evan pointed out that since there had been all the tire tracks right at the spot, it would most likely have been a person

doing the killing.

"Hunters," Daniel surmised.

"Maybe so," Adam said. "Too close to the state park, though."

"And too close to us," Crane added.

"True," Daniel agreed.

Adam went on to tell everybody what Guthrie and I had told him that night before, about our neighbors fence being knocked

flat.

"Any of their cattle missing?" Brian asked.

"I don't know if Steven knew that or not," I said. "But he said that his father doesn't have any missing cattle."

After that they all started talking about how it might be beneficial to get the neighbors together. Valerie's father, and

Steven's, and the neighbors whose fence had been demolished.

"I can make some calls," Hannah offered.

"Yeah," Adam said. "See if they can all agree on a night to come over this week."

Hannah nodded, and everybody finished their meal. As she and I were doing the dishes, and Clare was helping

to clear up, they both asked me about Steven.

"Did you have a nice time with him?" Clare asked.

"Steven's nice," I said, non-committal. "He's fun."

"I'm glad you've found someone you want to go out with," Hannah said.

"It's not really like that," I told her. "I think of him as more of a friend."

They were both quiet, looking at me. Then Clare said, "Well, there's nothing wrong with that."

"No," Hannah agreed. "There's not."

"To be honest," I said, "I'm still hoping to date Eddie at some point."

"He's cute," Clare said, and gave me a nudge.

"I'm hoping that he'll ask me out again," I said. "Maybe after I turn 17. Maybe then he'll think I'm old

enough."

"He's your crush, huh?" Clare asked.

"I don't know if it's a crush," I said, because personally, I felt that it was more than a crush. "But he's the

one I really want to go out with."

When Brian came down the back stairs at that point, I clammed up, and the kitchen was quiet.

"What's goin' on?" Brian asked. "It got awfully quiet in here all of a sudden."

"Just girl talk," Clare told him, with a smile.

"This about that Steven kid?" Brian asked, and I had to wonder if he'd overheard our entire conversation.

When I didn't answer immediately, he prompted, "Huh, peach?"

"What about Steven?" I asked, taking another plate out of the dish drainer to dry.

"If he's gonna be takin' you out on dates, he needs to come around here to pick you up, and not be just

meeting up with you in town," Brian said, pouring a cup of coffee.

"It wasn't like that," I protested. "It was just sort of a last minute thing. You know what I mean."

Brian made a 'hmm' sort of response. "It was a date though, wasn't it?"

"Sort of," I said. "But not really."

Brian gave me a studying glance, drinking his coffee.

"Leave her alone, Brian," Clare said, mildly.

"I'm just tryin' to figure out what's going on," Brian said.

"Nothing is going on," I said. "Not with Steven, anyway."

Brian and I stood there, just sort of looking at one another. "All I'm saying is, if you're gonna go out with

a boy, he needs to go about it the right way," he said.

"Okay," I said, mostly to get him off the subject.

"Okay," he echoed me, and took a last drink of the coffee, before setting the cup on the cabinet beside the sink, and

gave Clare a quick kiss before he headed out the back door.

"Whew," I breathed, when he'd gone.

7

Later that morning, I offered to go to the grocery store to get a few things for Hannah. She handed me some money,

and a short list.

"The most important things on there are the milk and the laundry detergent," she told me.

"Okay," I said, reading over the list quickly to see if I had any questions about it.

"Would it be okay if I went to Lori's house for awhile?" I asked her.

"I think that'd be okay," she said.

"You'll tell Adam, right?" I asked. I didn't want Adam thinking I was late getting home, or that I hadn't asked

permission.

"I will. But you'll be home for lunch, won't you?"

"Yeah. I will be," I told her.

And so, I set out for Murphys in my truck. I could still smell the faintness of the peppermints that Doc G had

always carried around in the truck cab. I saw no sign of any brothers around the house or barn as I was leaving. As

I reached the end of the driveway, though, Daniel was just driving in, and parked there, waiting for me.

I leaned out my open window and he leaned out of his.

"Where are you off to?" he asked me.

"Town," I said.

"To do what?" he asked, and I wrinkled my nose at him.

"Nosy," I accused him, with a teasing smile.

"To do what, squirt?" he asked again, and I lost my smile. He was entirely serious.

"Go to the store for Hannah. And go to Lori's for awhile," I said. "Why? What's the matter?"

"I just wanna know where you're gonna be at, that's all," Daniel said.

I wrinkled my forehead, puzzled by his demeanor. "I have permission to go to Lori's," I said, thinking that

he might assume I was up to something that I shouldn't be.

"I figured that you did," he said.

And so I gave him another studying glance. "What's wrong?" I asked. "You're acting weird."

"So now it's weird for me to be concerned about you?" he countered, with a slight smile.

"No. But you seem a little extra-extra concerned," I said.

"Yeah, yeah," Daniel said. "You gonna be home by lunch?"

"Uh huh," I said, still studying him.

"Okay. Well, be careful," he said.

"Okay. I'll try not to drop any heavy cans on my toes at the grocery store," I said playfully.

"I'm serious, squirt. Go where you're goin', and then come home."

"Okay," I agreed, as I felt a prickle of unease. There was something going on with Daniel. Protective he may be, but

good grief! All I was doing was going to Murphys to the grocery store, and to a friend's house. He acted as though I

was setting sail on the Titanic, or something.

"Alright," he said. "See ya later."

"See you," I said, and we both drove on.

I puzzled over it as I drove along. But when I got to Murphys, I was still no closer to figuring out what had been

bugging Daniel. Something had been, though. I was sure of that.

7

Since I didn't want to leave the milk in a hot truck, I went to Lori's house first. We got to talk for just a little while, though,

because she had a dentist appointment, and her mother came to her bedroom door to remind her.

"Sorry that we didn't have more time to talk," Lori said.

"It's okay," I said.

"Maybe you can spend the night," she suggested. "Do you think you can? How about Friday night?"

"I should be able to," I said.

"Okay. We'll get a pizza from Butch's," she said.

"That sounds good," I said.

So I left Lori's, and headed to the grocery store. I was going up and down the aisles, pushing the cart, and

glancing down at the list every few moments.

I got in line to check out. The store was busy at this time of day, and I wasn't really paying attention to

what was going on around me. I was studying the fingernails on one hand, thinking that they were really a mess. All

chipped, and ragged looking.

A quiet voice beside me said, "Hello, pretty girl."

I jolted back to reality. And looked up into Seth's face.

7


	9. Hidden warning

At first I was so startled that I didn't say anything at all. The person in front of me in line moved up a little, and

so I pushed my grocery cart forward a bit, too, trying to collect my thoughts.

"It's been a long time," Seth said. "Since I've seen you, I mean."

I realized that I was just sort of gaping at him, and I said, "Yeah. It's been awhile."

We stood there in the line, and he said, "How have you been?"

"Fine," I said. I turned my back to him a little, wishing he would go away. But, since he had cigarettes in one hand, and some

beef jerky in the other, it was obvious that he was waiting to be checked out.

I kept my back to him, hoping he wouldn't talk to me anymore.

Linda Marsh rang up the stuff from my cart, and I handed her the money that Hannah had given me.

"Daniel's home this summer, huh?" she asked me.

"Uh huh," I said, conscious of Seth standing right behind me, listening.

"That's cool. I'd heard that he was. I haven't seen him yet, though," she went on.

I had to sigh a little. Yet another girl who had the hots for Daniel.

"Is he going to be coming to the street dance next week, do you think?" she asked me then.

"Um, I don't know," I said, as she handed me back my change.

Finally I was done, and I lifted the two grocery bags, and hooked the jug of milk over one of my fingers.

"I'll help you," Seth said.

"I've got it," I said, and made my escape out the heavy wooden doors.

I had gotten nearly to my truck by the time Seth caught up with me. As I was struggling to open my

door without dropping one of the grocery bags, he said, "Here. I'll help you," and took one of the bags out of my arm.

I opened the door then, and shoved one bag in, and set the milk in the seat.

"I've got it," I said, taking the other sack from him, and setting it in the seat. I quickly moved to get into the truck,

settling behind the steering wheel. I put my hand on the door handle to pull the door closed, except that he was standing

there, right in the way.

"I've got to be going," I said.

"You know what?" he asked, as if I hadn't spoken at all. "The sheriff came to pay me a visit a few days ago. It seems

as though somebody thought I was messing around up on your place. At your cabin, or something."

I tried to meet his gaze without flinching. In doing so, I saw that he had lost some weight, and gained some muscle.

"Really?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah. I told him that was just bullshit. I haven't been anywhere near your ranch since last fall."

I didn't know what to say, and while I was trying to search for the right thing to answer, he went on.

"How about that?" he asked. "Pretty strange, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, and I couldn't help it, I had to look away from his piercing gaze.

He took a step closer to the cab of the truck, so that he was standing near enough that his knee was touching

my leg. "I've got a good job now," he said. "Working at the lumberyard."

"That's good," I said.

"Yeah." Then, just as suddenly as that, he returned to the subject. "I wonder why somebody would think I was

up there, at your cabin like that," he went on. "I mean, if I wanted to trespass somewhere, it could be better

than a broken-floored line shack, you know?"

"Yeah," I said, trying to slow down my breathing.

"You suppose we could get together some time?" he asked. His voice was polite enough, but by now I could feel myself trembling.

"I've got to go," I said, in answer, and gave a tug on the door handle. Enough to dislodge him a bit.

"Okay. I hope I see you again," he said, and then leaned forward just a little, so that his face was a lot closer to mine. "Real soon."

He stepped away, and I was able to close the door.

"Hey, how's Guthrie?" he asked me then.

I tried to meet his eyes, full on. Messing with me was one thing. But if he was thinking about starting something with

Guthrie, well, that got my dander up.

"Guthrie's fine," I said evenly.

"That's good. Maybe I'll see him around too, sometime."

"You leave Guthrie alone," I said fiercely.

Seth managed to look startled, and then he smiled easily. "I wasn't meanin' anything bad, Harlie. I was hoping that

Guthrie and I might be able to smooth things over between us. That's all."

He sounded so believable that I studied him for a minute. Then he smiled, and sort of pushed himself

off of my truck.

"Bye, pretty girl," he said.

Well, I put the truck in reverse and backed out of the grocery store parking lot, and when I looked in the rearview

mirror, Seth was still standing there, watching me drive away.

7

As I drove slowly thru town, I saw Ford's blond head, standing in front of the café, where he was talking to Marie.

He stepped off the sidewalk and flagged me down.

"Hey," he greeted me. "I've been waitin' for you to drive by."

"What? Why?" I asked, confused.

"I need a ride home," he said. "When I called, Hannah said you were in town."

"Oh. Yeah," I said, feeling sort of disconnected by my conversation with Seth.

"What's wrong with you?" Ford asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"Hi, sweetheart!" Marie called from where she stood on the sidewalk.

"Hi, Marie," I called back.

"Come in and have some lunch," she said.

"Do you want to?" Ford asked me.

"I told Hannah I'd be home by lunch," I said.

"We can call and let 'em know," he said. "The special today is fried chicken."

"Okay," I said. "If you want to."

"Park the truck," he said.

When I'd done that, Marie had already gone into the café, and Ford was still waiting on the sidewalk for me.

"Oh, the milk," I remembered.

"Huh?" he asked.

"The milk. We better take it in or it'll get too hot in the sun," I told him.

"I'll get it," he said, and went to the truck to retrieve the jug of milk.

"One jug of milk?" he said, as he rejoined me. "That's not gonna last long with the McFadden bunch."

"That's all Hannah said to get," I told him.

"Okay." He paused, looking down at me. "What wrong?" he asked again.

I shook my head at him a little. "Nothing."

"Not true," he denied. "You're white as a sheet."

"I guess I need some more sun," I said, lightly.

"Har. Come on. What is it?" he asked.

I was considering how to say it, when Marie came to the door of the café. "Come in, you two. I've got two specials

dished up for you."

As we went inside, Ford ushered me in ahead of him. "We'll talk in a minute," he said, low, and went to the pay phone to call

home and tell them we were eating in town.

Marie put the milk in the café refrigerator, and served us up both full plates of fried chicken, and corn, and mashed potatoes. She

sat down with us while we ate, and our conversation consisted mostly of how Ford had finished up his freshman year at college.

I was quiet, letting them talk. I knew Marie loved all of us kids, and she hadn't had much opportunity to talk with Ford

since he'd been home for the summer.

She left our booth to go wait on more customers, coming in for the lunch crowd. When she returned to fill our glasses with

tea, I asked her where Kristin was.

"She wasn't able to come in," Marie said. "Her mom wasn't feeling well."

"Do you need help?" I asked. "I can fill in, probably, if I call home first."

"You're sweet," she said, pinching my cheek. "But I've called Rhonda. She'll be here shortly."

As she bustled away, I pushed my half-eaten plate towards Ford. "Want the rest of my chicken?" I offered.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yes. Go on."

He took my last piece of chicken, and I sat back, quiet, until he said, "What's bugging you?"

"I saw Seth," I said quietly.

Ford gave me a long look, and laid the piece of chicken on his plate, wiping his hands on a napkin.

"You did? Where?" he asked.

"He was at the grocery store."

Ford read my face and he read it well, because he said, "You didn't just see him, did you? What happened? Did he

say something to you?"

"He talked to me."

"What'd he say?" Ford demanded.

"He said the sheriff came to see him, and he said that he wasn't up at the line cabin."

"Well, yeah, of course he's gonna say that," Ford said.

"He said-" I hesitated.

"He said what?"

"He said why would somebody think that he would be up there."

Ford looked thoughtful, and concerned. "Well, he's gonna deny it," he said. He sipped at his iced tea, finishing what

was left. "What else?" he asked.

"Let's just go home," I said, sliding out of the booth. "Okay?"

"I'll get the milk from Marie, and pay for lunch," Ford said.

I waited at the door, waving at Marie as Ford and I went out into the bright sunshine.

At my truck, I handed Ford the keys that I pulled out of my pocket. "You can drive," I told him.

"You really are shook," he said, looking concerned.

"Don't be silly," I said.

Once we were inside the truck cab, me in the passenger seat and Ford behind the wheel, he turned to me instead of

starting the motor right away.

"What really happened?" he asked me.

"I told you-"

"I know what you've told me. I want to know the rest. Did he threaten you?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me, Har," he said, sounding as though he meant business.

"I'm not. I wouldn't, Ford."

"Well, what then?" he asked.

"He asked about Guthrie. How he was. It scared me. It was weird. It wasn't like he meant it in a good way. You know?"

"Yeah. What else?"

I popped my knuckles in nervousness, similar to Guthrie. "This is the main thing. I know he's lying. I know that it was

him that I saw up there at the cabin."

"How?" Ford asked.

"Because of something that he said. I don't think he realized that he'd slipped and said it that way. He said, 'why would

I trespass up there, if I wanted to trespass, it would be somewhere better than a broken-floored line shack'."

Ford sat there, the muscles in the side of his jaw working in and out with tenseness. I knew he understood fully

just what Seth had revealed.

How would Seth know, unless he'd been there, that our line shack had a section of floor that was broken?

7

Ford and I rode home mostly in silence after that. Pulling into the driveway, he said, in a warning tone,

"We're telling the family."

I didn't say anything and he went on. "I know you probably don't want to, because they'll start being more

protective than ever of you, but we've got to tell them."

"Yes. I know," I said.

If Ford was surprised by my easy acquiesce, he didn't let on. He parked my truck in its usual spot, and

handed me the keys. Then he hoisted both of the bags of groceries, one in each arm, and I took the jug of milk.

As we would have walked to the house, Adam came to the door of the barn, and called out to us.

Ford and I headed over, still carrying the food, to meet him.

"How was lunch at the café?" he asked.

"Good," Ford said. "Fried chicken."

"Marie makes good fried chicken," Adam agreed.

"We need to talk to you about somethin'," Ford said.

Adam looked us both over for a long moment, and then, looking as serious as Ford and I did, he said, "Alright. Now, or

later?"

"We'll take this stuff inside," Ford said. "And then we'll come back out to talk to you."

Adam nodded, and I followed Ford as we went into the house, and to the kitchen.

We put the groceries away, and then went back out again, walking to the front porch, and down the stairs.

Adam, along with Brian and Crane, were near the picnic table in the yard. Crane and Adam were both sitting on the table, their

feet resting on the benches, and Brian stood beside it, looking agitated. Adam had gathered the troops.

"What's up?" he asked, without preamble, after Ford and I were standing there beside the table.

Ford looked at me, and I knew he was silently asking if I wanted him to talk, or do it myself. I nodded at him a little.

"Harlie saw that Seth kid," Ford said.

"Where?" Adam asked.

"At the grocery store," Ford supplied.

All of them turned their eyes upon me. "What happened?" Adam asked me.

"He started talking to me. He said the sheriff had come to talk to him about being up at the line cabin. And he said

that he wasn't. Up there, I mean."

"Of course he's gonna say that," Brian said, echoing what Ford had said earlier.

"Did he hurt you?" Brian demanded then.

"No."

Brian stepped closer and took my chin in his hand. "Did he, peach?" he insisted, and I could tell was sincerely worried.

"No, Bri. Honest."

He studied me a moment longer, and then dropped his hand from my chin.

Crane reached out and pulled me closer, tugging me until I was sitting on the bench, and he was sitting above me. He wrapped

his arms around me from behind.

"What else did he say?" Adam asked. His tone was quiet enough, but I could tell he was simmering with anger.

"He asked me about Guthrie. How he was. And I told him to leave Guthrie alone. He said that he wanted to smooth things

over with him," I said.

Crane rubbed his hand over my arm, in comforting circles.

"He said why would anybody think that he would be up there. And then he said that he could trespass better places than

a line shack with a broken-in floor," I went on.

There was total silence for a long, long moment, and then Brian swore, "Son of a bitch," under his breath.

"That's it," Brian said then.

"Anything more?" Adam asked me.

"No," I said, and then I hesitated.

"What, Harlie?" Adam asked me.

"He asked if we could get together some time," I added.

"And you said?" Brian asked, his jaw tight.

"I told him I had to go. I didn't answer, really," I said.

Brian began to pace back and forth in front of the picnic table.

"Harlie," Adam said, and I looked up at him.

"You tell us now, right now, if he did anything to hurt you. If he said one word of a threat to you. This is when you

tell us," he said, sounding fierce.

"No," I said. "I mean, it was scary and all. But he didn't do anything to me."

"I'll call the sheriff," Adam said. "Tell him that it had to have been Seth that Harlie and Evan saw."

He stood up, next to Brian. Adam reached out to put his hand on the back of Ford's neck. "I'm glad you were in

town," he said.

"No more goin' to town alone," Brian told me.

Even though I'd known that they would say that, I still felt frustrated. But I was still shaken up a bit, too, by my

encounter with Seth. Shaken enough that I wasn't going to argue. At least right at that moment.

"Okay," I said.

Crane gave me a gentle push and I stood up. He kept his arms around me for a few minutes.

Adam reached out to rub a hand over my cheek, and then sighed, and went to the house. To call the sheriff, I knew.

"Will that be enough for Seth to be arrested?" I asked. "The fact that he knew about the hole in the floor at the cabin?"

"Not likely," Crane said. "Still not enough proof. Besides, it would just be trespassing, anyway. No proof that they

were up to anything else up there."

"Then what's the point of calling the sheriff again?" I asked, in frustration.

"We need to keep him updated on anything that happens," Crane said, sounding reasonable.

I sighed, and Crane hugged me a little tighter. As everybody separated to get back to work, Ford going with Brian, I stood

there with Crane for a few more moments. I wrapped my arms around his waist.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked me.

"I'm okay."

"I better get back to work," he said.

"Can I tag along with you?" I asked him.

"Sure."

I couldn't explain it exactly. I just felt like being with Crane right then.

7


	10. Wire and Wild

I went along with Crane the rest of the afternoon. He finished patching the fence around the barn corral and then

he said he had to go somewhere in the Jeep.

As he went to get his rifle from the gun cabinet in the living room, I asked him where it was he was going.

"Just something that I want to check out," he said.

"Can I go with you?" I asked him.

He looked thoughtful for a long moment, as if he was considering, and then said, "I guess you can. The sun's hot. Go

get your hat."

I hurried to take my hat from one of the hooks by the back door.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Hannah asked me, from where she and Clare sat working at the table,

rolling bread dough.

"I'm going with Crane," I told her.

As I went to rejoin Crane, and we were heading out the front door, Hannah caught up with us, following us out onto the

porch.

"Crane?" she asked. That was all she said, but Crane understood.

"Everything's alright, Hannah," he told her.

"Well, where are you going?" she asked, nodding towards the rifle he was carrying.

"I'm just going to take a ride, and check out some fence," Crane said.

"Alright," Hannah said, but she still looked and sounded nervous.

"We'll be back before supper," Crane told her, and I followed him to the Jeep.

Crane stopped at the gate past the barn, got out and opened it, and then motioned to me to drive thru.

I scooted over to the driver's seat, and put the Jeep in first gear and pulled thru, coming to a stop. Crane shut

the gate and I scooted back to my own seat.

"Here comes somebody," I said, squinting into the sun, and trying to see who the two riders were that

were approaching from the distance.

"It's Adam, isn't it? And Evan?" I asked.

"Looks like it," Crane said.

When we met up with them, Crane pulled to a stop, and Adam and Evan pulled up their horses.

"What's up?" Adam asked.

"I have a hunch I want to check out," Crane said.

"Where?" Adam asked.

"Up near the property line," Crane said.

"What we talked about earlier?" Adam asked him.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Adam said. "Be careful."

"Will do," Crane said.

Crane and I drove on then, and we had bounced along for quite a distance, when I spoke over the wind

blowing past. "What do you think the blood was from? A bear?"

"I don't know what I think, really."

I subsided then. It was too hard to talk over the wind whipping past.

It was quieter the higher up we went. I saw we were nearly to the line cabin, and Crane parked up above.

Shutting the Jeep off, he got out, picking up his rifle, and going to stand and look down.

Without saying anything, he headed down the slope and so I followed him, and when we reached the bottom

I dusted off my hands where I'd caught myself from falling.

Crane hiked towards the line cabin, and when we got to the front door, he motioned me back a little, and then

kicked the toe of his boot against the closed door.

"Anybody there?" he called out.

No response, and he reached out to open the door, stepping into the cabin.

"You can come in," he told me, and I followed him inside.

I left the door open, and watched Crane as he just sort of walked around, looking around the room.

There were blankets strewn all across the floor, and dirty dishes still on the table.

"Yuck," I said.

"Yeah. Courtesy of the guys staying up here, I guess," he said.

Crane went over and lifted up the mattress on the bed in the corner.

"What are you looking for, exactly?" I asked him, curious.

"Nothing in particular," he said. "Just everything in general."

"Oh," I said, and I went to look into the cabinets in the tiny kitchen. There were quite a stock of canned goods, vegetables,

and canned fruit. There were bananas rotting on the counter, knats buzzing around them. Looking closer, I saw there

was tuna, and cans of Spam.

"Crane, look," I said, and he came closer. "They had a lot of food stocked up."

He surveyed the filled-up cabinets, and nodded. "Yeah. Looks like they planned to stay awhile."

"I don't think they were just staying here," I said. "Seth has family that he can stay with in Murphys. There

has to be a reason why they were camped out up here. Besides just needing a place to stay, I mean."

"Could be," Crane said. He went over to the small closet nearest to the spot in the floor that was broken thru.

Opening the door he rooted around for a couple of moments, and then said, "Well, look here."

I went to peer around him as he stepped back, a Nikon camera in his hand, a long-distance lens attached to it.

"Wow," I said. "And they left that?"

"The guy they found here had to leave while the sheriff was here," Crane said. "Likely he didn't take time to collect all

his belongings."

"Do you think he's planning on coming back to get it?" I asked.

"He might be. Could be waiting until he thinks nobody's watching the cabin."

Crane studied the camera more closely. "There's film in here," he said, and then rewound the film, opening the back

of the camera and taking the roll of film out.

"Maybe there's a clue on there," I suggested.

"Could be," Crane agreed.

He gave a last look around, and then ushered me out the door in front of him. "Come on, Nancy Drew," he told me.

"I'm just saying," I protested. "Maybe we should get the film developed and see what he was taking pictures of."

"Good idea."

Crane handed the camera to me to hold, and put the film canister in the glove compartment.

"The guy that the sheriff caught up here says that he's not from around here, and that he won't be around here

for long," I said, without thinking. I was carried away by my whole investigation thing with Crane, and didn't mind

my tongue.

Crane straightened up, after closing the glove compartment. "Huh?" he asked me, giving me his full

attention.

I realized my mistake. I bit at my lip, meeting his gaze.

"Harlie?" he prompted. "How do you know that?"

There was no option but to tell him. So I said, reluctantly, "When we saw him and the dog last night, I talked to him."

There was dead silence for the longest moment. Crane was angry, though. He doesn't show anger the way

the majority of my brothers do, but it's easy to recognize it when it does happen. Which is rare, for Crane.

"I'm listening," he said.

"I thought it was the dog, in the bar," I began. "So when he came out, I was standing beside his truck, and

I just talked to him a little bit."

"Explain how that happened," he said.

"He brought the dog out, and put him in the truck, and then he went back into the bar. So I went over-" I hesitated.

"To look inside the truck?" Crane prompted.

I nodded at him.

"And then he came out, and you and Guthrie just struck up a conversation with him?" Crane asked, sounding grim.

"Not Guthrie."

"What?"

"Not Guthrie. Just me," I clarified.

"Where was Guthrie at this time?"

"Behind the bar, seeing if he could hear anything," I said.

I felt my face get all hot, the way that Crane was looking at me.

"Didn't he think it was a little odd, that you just happened to be waiting there, to talk to him?" Crane asked, an edge

to his voice.

"I told him I was just petting his dog," I admitted.

"For as smart of a kid as you are, sometimes I have to wonder about where your thoughts come from," he said, and

his voice was really stern.

I bit at my lip again, feeling bad. I hate, hate, hate it when Crane is aggravated with me. He's so kind, and patient. It

takes a lot to tick him off. I'd been feeling good lately about how I was getting along with all of my brothers. Now I'd succeeded

in making Crane mad.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking away from him, and looking down at my hands.

"What for?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, looking up again.

"What are you sorry for?"

I hesitated, and he went on, "Sorry that you let it slip?"

I met his look, feeling guilty.

He sighed then, looking out towards the mountains in the distance. And I sat there, quiet, feeling miserable, and watching

his profile.

"I'm grounded again, right?" I said, feeling as though I wanted to cry. I'd just gotten off the worst grounding I'd ever had in my

life, and now I'd probably be right back to it again.

Instead of answering that, Crane said, "Just because you were in town and you felt safe to do that because there were

other people around, doesn't make it alright, Harlie."

He was looking at me again, with an intentness that made me want to squirm.

"It was an impulse, I know, but you really need to think things thru a lot better than that," he said.

I started to say something, but before I could, he said, "Don't tell me that you will, or promise me you won't do something

foolish like that again. Just sit there, and be quiet, and think about it."

And, with that, he started the motor of the Jeep, and we drove. Instead of going back the way that we'd come, he drove

further up, and I knew we had to be getting close to our property line. I stayed quiet, like he'd told me to. I was

too worried about making him even more mad to say anything.

When he did stop, and turn off the engine again, he got out and reached behind the seat, pulling out a set of binoculars.

Then he picked up the rifle, and started walking. "Come on," he told me, and so I scrambled out of the Jeep, too,

and hurried to catch up with him.

We walked for quite a ways, and came to the bottom of what seemed to be a steep climb, up a grassy patch and then

rocks. I followed behind him, not finding it all that easy to manage the climb. He paused a couple of times, waiting for

me to catch up. When we finally reached what seemed to be the top, I was surprised by how high up we really were, and

how beautiful the view was.

We were so high up that looking out and down, it seemed as though the grass met the sky with no space in between, if

that makes any sense. I stepped back just a bit. It was a long, long way down.

Crane settled onto a rock that was big enough to serve as a seat, and set his rifle to the side. Then he pulled the

binoculars out of their case, and began to look thru them, out and down.

I sat down quietly on the ground, with my legs crossed, Indian style.

"It's really pretty up here, isn't it?" Crane asked.

I was so glad that he was talking to me again, not sounding angry, that I gave him a grateful smile.

"It really is," I agreed.

After a moment, I asked, "Where are we? I mean, this isn't our property, right?"

"No. We're on the state park."

"Oh." I hesitated, looking around some more. "Have you been up here before?"

"Yeah. I like coming up here."

He set the binoculars aside. "Here in a bit you might get to see something really special."

"What?" I asked curiously.

"Wait and see."

And so we waited, in quiet. Hawks flew overhead, and I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms

around them.

And then, suddenly, he asked, "Have you been thinking?"

"Yes. It was wrong, and dumb. Guthrie called me stupid."

"Guthrie's going to hear from me about this whole thing, too," he said. "Though I wouldn't say what he did

was anywhere near as foolish."

I don't want Crane to think I'm foolish. I mean, he's one of the smartest people that I know, and I want him to think

I'm smart, too. I don't want him to think I'm a dumb kid, always acting without thinking.

He went on then, to say that I absolutely had to learn to control my impulses. Think before I decided to do something.

He finished by saying something that really made me cringe.

"God gave you a brain for a reason, Harlie."

I looked out towards the view below, tears springing to my eyes. I hugged my knees tighter to my chest, and rested my

chin on my knees.

"You understand what I'm saying to you?" he asked, when I was silent.

"Yes," I managed, my voice muffled a little.

"I don't think we need tears, do we?" he asked me. "All I'm doing is giving you a talking-to."

"A talking-to from you is the same as a whipping from someone else," I said, tears dropping off my cheeks onto

the knees of my jeans.

"First of all, you've never had a real whipping in your life," Crane said. "Secondly, what do you mean, it's the same?"

"I respect you," I said, trying to stop my tears. "And I care what you think. I don't want you to think I'm dumb, or that

I only do things that are foolish. I want you to be proud of me. And, when you talk to me like this, like you're scolding

me, well, it makes me feel really bad, even though I deserve it."

"Hmm," Crane said, and then we were both quiet for a few minutes.

Then, into the quiet, he said, "Harlie. Come up here."

I turned my head to look at him, and he motioned to me. "Come on. Come sit here."

I got up, and went to sit beside him on the rock.

"I'm glad you care what I think," he said. "That really makes me feel good. And I know how smart you really are. I just

want you to stop and think a little more. Alright?"

I nodded at him, rubbing at my cheek. "Alright."

"Alright," he said again. "Lecture's over."

We sat quietly again, after that. Until Crane straightened up a little, and put the binoculars up to his eyes again, and

then he pointed to the distance, and handed them to me.

"Take a look," he said.

I looked thru the binoculars, but didn't see anything. "What?" I asked.

"Here," he said, and I felt him move them a little to the right. "Now, do you see?"

For a moment I couldn't speak. I'd never seen anything so beautiful.

7


	11. Buddy-system

There were so many, running together. So fast, and so smoothly that they seemed to blend together in one giant phenonenom

of nature.

I lowered the binoculars and watched. "How many are there, do you think?" I asked Crane.

"A hundred or so, maybe," he guessed.

"I never knew-" I said, breathless.  
"It's something to see alright," he agreed, taking the binoculars from me, and adjusting them to his eyes again.

I stood up to watch. Every color. Brown, black, white, gray, a mixture.

"Is this where they live?" I asked Crane. "I mean, are they here all the time?"

"Not all the time. But yeah, they're here a lot." He lowered the binoculars and handed them off to me. "See that one? In the front?"

"The black one?" I asked, peering thru the binoculars.

"Yeah. He's the leader."

"He's so beautiful," I said.

We sat in silence for a long time after that, watching the wild Mustangs, as they slowed from their run to a walk, and then

began to graze on the green grass.

When Crane said that we should be heading home, I stood up reluctantly, watching as the black stallion raised his head. He seemed to

be looking directly at us, watching us as we had watched him.

"Look, Crane," I said. "He's watching us."

Crane took a last look. "It seems as though he is," he agreed. He lifted the rifle, and handed the binoculars to me

to carry.

And so, we began our trek back down the rocky climb to where the Jeep was parked at.

It was windy again, driving home. I settled back, watching as the mountains floated by. It had been a long day. I

was suddenly tired.

At home again, Crane took his rifle and the camera that we'd found, and I carried in the binoculars.

Going up the front steps, I said, "Thank you for showing them to me."

"You're welcome."

"Can we go again, sometime?" I asked.

"Most likely we can."

Everybody else was already settled around the kitchen table, by the time that Crane had put away his rifle, and we got to the

kitchen.

"We'd about given up on you two," Brian said.

I went to hang up the binocular case by the back door on the hook, and then Crane and I both went to the sink,

and washed our hands.

"How was your afternoon?" Hannah asked me, looking at both Crane and I.

"I'd say it was pretty good, by that expression on her face," Adam observed.

I hadn't realized how I was glowing, seeing those Mustangs that way.

"It was good," I said. "Crane showed me something really special."

When Hannah asked what, and everybody else looked interested, or curious, I told them about

the herd of wild Mustangs.

It turned out that all of my brothers had seen them themselves at one time or another over the years, other than

Ford and Guthrie, who were both looking at the brothers accusingly.

"How come I never knew about them?" Ford asked.

"You should see all the colors," I told Guthrie. "And there's a black stallion. Crane says he's the leader."

"I'd like to see them, too," Clare spoke up.

"I'll take you up there sometime," Brian told her.

After that, the conversation was turned to the cabin, when Crane told the others about the camera he'd

found in the closet.

"Think there might be something on that film?" Adam asked, looking thoughtful.

"Maybe," Crane said. "Harlie seems to think so." He smiled at me across the table.

After that they all discussed a daybreak start the next morning to search until our twelve missing cows were

found. Packing of food was discussed, and it was decided that everybody would participate in the hunt, except for

Hannah, who would be at home with Isaac.

Later that evening, as everybody was taking turns getting a shower, and watching a Johnny Cash special on television,

the phone began to ring. Daniel came back from answering it, flopping back into his spot on the couch, and taking the

bowl of popcorn that I had in my lap.

"Hey," I objected, as he began to stuff popcorn into his mouth. "What's up with taking my popcorn?"

"Phone's for you," he said in response, turning his attention back to the television.

I had a momentary wonder if it could be Seth on the phone, but Daniel squashed that when he said, "It's Steven somebody.

I asked who it was. I wanted to make sure it wasn't that Seth kid."

"Don't eat all the popcorn," I said, and went to pick up the receiver.

"Hi, Steven," I said.

"Hey, Harlie. Anything new there at your house?"

I told him how I'd run into Seth in town, and how Crane and I had gone up to the cabin to look around.

When I got around to telling him about how we were going to be searching for cattle the next morning, he offered

to come early and help.

"If you think your family would want me to," he added.

"That's nice of you," I said. "I'll ask and call you back."

After we talked a few more minutes, and I'd hung up, I went back to my spot on the couch, which had now been taken

over by Guthrie and his long legs.

"That's my spot," I told him.

"Sit over there," Guthrie said, gesturing to the floor.

Guthrie and I began to scuffle, me shoving his legs off the couch, and him mock-slapping at me.

We knocked into the bowl of popcorn that Daniel was eating out of, and some fell onto the floor.

"Look what you did," Guthrie accused me.

"Elephant ears," I taunted, and settled cross-legged on the floor in front of Daniel.

"How's your boyfriend?" Daniel asked me, nudging the back of my head with his knee.

"Eat your popcorn," I told him.

"Yeah, how is he?" Evan asked, joining in on the teasing.

I stared at the television pointedly, ignoring them both.

"You need to have him come around so we can look him over," Evan went on.

"You don't need to look him over," I said. "He's not my boyfriend."

They kept teasing me for a few more minutes, but I refused to rise to the bait.

Later, brushing my teeth before bed, I caught Adam as he was coming down the hall.

"Steven wants to know if we'd want his help tomorrow," I said.

Paused there in the hallway, Adam smiled a little. "He wants to help us out, huh?"

"Not you too," I said with a groan.

"What's that mean?" he asked.

"Teasing me. Like the boys. Thinking he wants to help out because he likes me," I said.

"Did I say any of that?" he asked, with another grin.

"No. I guess you didn't."

"Well, can he ride?" Adam asked me.

"Yes, sure."

"If he wants to help out, I guess it's alright. As long as his father says it's okay. Make sure he has permission."

"Okay. I'll call him in the morning," I said.

7

The next morning Brian cooked up biscuits and gravy for breakfast. I had taken time to call Steven's house and catch

him eating his own breakfast, telling him that we would be glad to have his help.

By the time I got to the kitchen, most of the gravy was gone and only a few biscuits were left.

"Good grief," I complained. "Bunch of pigs around here."

Brian, pausing in his stirring something at the stove, turned to chide me.

"There's more here on the stove, peach," he told me. "No need for bellyaching."

"I wasn't," I protested, and then subsided into silence, going to the stove, and letting him put gravy over

my biscuits.

"Fresh peaches," Hannah said, pushing a bowl of them over to me.

Our fruit trees were in the throes of heavy bearing of fruit.

I took a few of the peach slices as Hannah went on to say that we needed to get busy canning peaches and pears,

and making jelly.

"Are you willing to help me tomorrow to do some?" Hannah asked me.

Canning fruit in a hot kitchen isn't my idea of a good time, but I knew Hannah needed the help and besides, I didn't

really have the option to say no.

I nodded, and felt a little better when Evan said that he thought Nancy was off the next day, and might be willing

to come over and help.

"Kristin might, too," Guthrie volunteered.

"Tell Nancy thank you if she will," Hannah told Evan, and then turned to Guthrie. "And I'd love to have Kristin, but only

if she isn't on the work schedule at the café. I know she and her mom count on that money."

"I'll check," Guthrie said.

With the possibility of Nancy and/or Kristin joining our little group of fruit canners, I thought I wouldn't mind helping

so much.

We were all done eating, and were saddling up our horses when Steven pulled in, and parked, walking over to where

the majority of us stood. He spent the next few minutes shaking hands of various brothers. I realized it was the first

time that he'd met several of them.

"Appreciate your help today, Steve," Brian said.

"It's alright, I'm glad to help," Steven said.

"Your dad had any problems over at his place?" Adam asked him.

"We haven't seen anything out of the ordinary. Our neighbors had one of their fences flattened, though," Steven told him.

"That's what the kids said," Adam said.

As we got around, ready to go, Hannah, holding Isaac, said goodbye and went back into the house. The rest of us

all mounted, Steven on old Charley.

Gathered in a circle, all on horseback, we were put into groups of two or three, so that everybody had somebody if needed,

and at least one rifle was in each group.

Steven was paired off with Crane and Guthrie, and Adam told me to ride with Daniel and Ford. That left Adam with Evan, and Brian

with Clare.

With so many of us, every direction of our property that the cattle could possibly be in, was covered.

As far as my group of Daniel and Ford and I went, we'd ridden for two hours without seeing any of the cows. We stopped to

stretch our legs, and I shared some of the snacks I'd tucked into my saddle bag.

"Twelve head of cattle don't just fall off the earth and disappear," Daniel said, taking a drink from his canteen of water.

Ford looked serious, and worried. "Yeah."

When we were on our way again, scoping out a tree line of heavy brush, it was Ford who saw one of the cows tucked into

all of that.

"Hey," he said, pointing.

We rode over, and found the cow so tangled in brush and fence wire that she could barely move.

Ford and Daniel began to push and pull the brush aside, and as soon as I was able, I squeezed in, trying to get

closer to the cow. She was one of our younger cows, ear-tagged, but not named. She began to lurch back and

forth as I came closer, her eyes wild.

"Aw, it's alright," I said, trying to make my voice soothing.

In answer, the cow became even more excited, startling me by her sudden movements until I fell backward on

my rear end.

"You alright?" Daniel asked me, still jerking brush from his path.

"Yeah," I said, just sitting there a minute.

Ford held out a hand to me, helping me to my feet.

The cow was still eyeing all three of us, breathing hard.

"Step on back here, squirt," Daniel told me, motioning me back.

When I was back a good ways, the three of us stood watching the cow, who had now stopped thrashing around,

but was breathing so heavily that she sounded like an airplane about to take off.

"She's caught in wire," Ford said, gesturing to where there was barb wire wrapped around a front leg of the cow.

"Yeah. Go grab the wire cutters out of my saddle bag, will ya, squirt?" Daniel told me.

I ran to fetch the wire cutters and came back, handing them to him.

Daniel began to step closer to the cow, but got no further than I had before the cow began to thrash around

again, even though Daniel tried the same soothing tone with her.

He stepped back quickly.

"Want me to try?" Ford offered.

"No, she's just gonna tear herself up worse if we keep comin' at her," Daniel said.

After a moment's thought he said, "Let's clear some more brush on the other side of her head. Maybe we can rope

her, and then one of us hold her steady while the other one gets that wire cut."

Ford nodded in agreement, and they began to clear out brush again. When they would toss it from the area, I drug it out of the

way, making a pile of it.

After that, I went to fetch Ford's rope, hanging over the saddle horn, and Ford tried three times before he was successful,

getting the rope around the cow's neck, and then pulling the rope taut so that she was easier to hold and control. Daniel headed

quickly to her, and snipped the wire from around her front leg.

"Did you get it?" Ford asked, sounding breathless from trying to hold the cow steady, his face sweaty.

"Not yet. Keep holding her," Daniel said.

Ford tightened his hold on the rope, and I moved to try and stand in front of him, to help hold it.

"Get behind me," he said.

"I'm alright," I insisted.

The cow, sensing that Ford's hold had loosened, began to thrash again.

"Listen up, squirt," Daniel said, raising his voice to me.

I muttered and moved behind Ford, clutching the end of the rope and bracing my feet.

Daniel went in close once more, snipping the jagged wire, and then stepped back.

Ford kept his hold on the rope, though he slacked up, and the cow settled down.

"Got it?" Ford asked.

"Yeah. She's pretty gashed up," Daniel said.

"She'll probably lead home alright," Ford said. He held the rope and I went to get his horse, leading her over.

Daniel held the rope while Ford mounted, and then handed the rope back again.

By the time Daniel and I had mounted, Ford was pulling the cow along behind his horse. The cow seemed exhausted,

and after a few minutes, was pretty cooperative.

We were nearing another part of our timber area that I hadn't been in for awhile. I had a sudden idea.

"You know that spot in there?" I asked, pointing. "Where the trees sort of clear out and there's that little meadow? Maybe

some of the cows are in there."

"Good idea," Daniel agreed, and we rode that way, slowly picking our way thru the trees, in single file, Daniel first, then me, and

then Ford following, with the cow.

And sure enough, in the grassy meadow, there were two more cows, munching happily on the grass.

Also there, though quite a distance away, was a sorrel mare. She looked in our direction, and stood quietly,

her head up.

"Wow," Ford said, as we paused.

"She's a beauty," Daniel said.

"I wonder if there's more of the herd around here," I said, getting excited. "They're coming from the valley where Crane took me, onto our property!"

"She might be the only one," Daniel said.

"They like being together, though," I argued.

"Well, we've got other fish to fry," Daniel said, dismissing the subject of the mare. "Can you manage to hang onto the rope, squirt? Or do you

want to help me roundup these two?"

"I'll help round up," I said, and Ford waited there, while Daniel and I moved in, and brought the two other cows, until

we were all headed the same direction, towards home.

I turned to get one more look at the wild mare, but she was gone.

7


	12. Fright over the phone

It took us another good two hours or longer to get home. It wouldn't have taken Daniel and I that long, but we kept stopping

and waiting for Ford to catch up, pulling the cow along behind him.

"Why don't you take off the rope?" I pointed out. "She'll follow the other two, won't she?"

"She might not. Skittish as she is, I'm gonna leave the rope on," Ford said.

"I wonder if anybody else had any luck finding cows," I mused out loud.

"Hope so," Daniel said fervently.

"Well, we did our share, right?" I asked cheerfully. "We found three out of twelve."

"Three's good," Daniel agreed. "But if nobody else had any luck, then that still leaves nine gone, and that puts

us in a spot."

"I know," I said, thinking that he was awfully grouchy.

"I was thinking," Ford began, "maybe I could get some side jobs."

"Yeah?" Daniel asked, looking across me at Ford, as we rode three across.

"Yeah," Ford said. "You know, bring in a little bit of extra money."

"You don't have time for that, Ford," Daniel said.

"I was talking to Mr. Anderson at the newspaper," Ford went on. "He said he might have be needing some help

to print up the flyers for the street dance next week, and for stuff for the 4th of July. If it worked out, he might keep me on for the rest of the summer."

Daniel shook his head a little, but didn't say anything more.

By the time we'd reached our own pastures, we left the two cows with the rest of the herd, and Ford led the

injured cow on thru the gates, and into the barn, where Ford tied her in a stall, and he and Daniel began to

look over her wounds.

"We have any old antibiotics around?" Daniel asked.

He looked at Ford and Ford looked at me. Since they'd both only been home for a few weeks, and weren't up yet on

everything that had taken place on the ranch the last few months, they were looking at me for an answer.

"I think there might be," I said, trying to remember the last time that we'd an injured or sick animal.

"Go see if you can find it, will you?" Daniel told me.

I went into the back door of the house, poking thru the old refrigerator in the mudroom, where my brothers keep animal

medicine and sometimes extra beer.

There was a bottle of medicine there, and I picked it up to read it, recognizing the name from working with Doc G. It was an antibiotic,

alright.

The door behind me to the kitchen opened, and Hannah stepped out.

She had Isaac in her arms, and she said, "Harlie, you're back."

"Uh huh," I said.

Hannah went on to the door and pushed it open, looking out into the back yard. "Who's with you?" she asked. "Adam?"

"No, he's with Evan," I said. "I was with Daniel and Ford. I don't think Adam's back yet."

"Oh," she said, and I thought she sounded sort of funny. Strange.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

Hannah shut the door, and made a point to meet my eye. "I'm alright," she said. "Daniel's out there, you say?"

"He's in the barn. I'm supposed to be getting this medicine," I said, holding up the bottle. "One of the cows got

tangled in some wire."

"Oh. Well, when you take it back out, will you ask Daniel to come in for a minute?"

"Sure," I said, still studying her.

Hannah gave me a smile, but it wasn't a convincing smile by any means.

When I went back out to the barn, I handed off the medicine to Ford.

"Found some, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think it was for another time when one of the calves was cut up," I said.

"Okay," Ford said, reading the directions on the bottle, and measuring it out in the syringe.

"Daniel, Hannah wants to talk to you," I said.

"Okay," Daniel said, but made no move to leave the cow's side.

"I think she meant right now," I added, and Daniel looked up at me from where he was kneeling in the

stall, looking at the cow's leg.

"Everything ok?" he asked.

"She acts sort of funny," I admitted, worriedly.

Daniel looked at Ford, and then got to his feet. "Alright. I'll go see what she needs," he said, and went out of

the barn.

"Something's wrong, Ford," I said. "I can tell."

"Hmm," Ford said, sounding concerned. "Well, let's get the shot in her."

I braced myself against the cow's hip, and Ford gave the cow the shot. After that, he knelt down and between the two

of us, we cleaned the wire cuts and put some topical medicine on them.

"Are we going to leave her in here, or turn her out?" I asked Ford.

"Let's leave her in here until we see how she's gonna do," Ford said.

We gathered up all the supplies and put them away, and Ford handed me the bottle of medicine to put back

into the refrigerator.

We heard horse's hooves, as we were heading out of the barn, and went around the corner of the barn to

find Brian and Clare unsaddling their horses.

"How'd you three do?" Brian asked.

"We found three," Ford said. "One's in the barn. She got tangled in some wire."

"Bad?" Brian asked, about the extent of the injuries.

"I think she'll be alright. We dosed her and cleaned the cuts. She's in there if you want to take a look," Ford said.

"I'll take care of this," Brian told Clare, gesturing to her saddle. "You can go on in."

"I'll start making some sandwiches for everybody getting back," Clare said. "Unless Hannah has something

else planned. Do you know, Harlie?"

"I don't know," I said. "I only talked to her for a minute."

"Alright," Clare said, and started for the house.

Ford took over unsaddling Clare's horse, and toting the saddle to put it away. I stood there watching Brian, as he

uncinched his own saddle.

"Hannah's upset," I said.

"What'd you do wrong now?" Brian asked me, teasing.

"I'm serious, Bri," I said. "She told me to come out and get Daniel."

Brian looked at me for a long moment, and then nodded, and took his saddle to put it away. I waited, and walked

inside with him, and we went into the back door. Clare was closing the refrigerator door.

"Hannah fried up some meat for tacos," she told Brian and I. "So we just need to heat that up and then get out some

lettuce and stuff. But I'm going to take a quick shower, alright?"

"Sure, darlin', go on," Brian told her.

"Something happened today, I think," she said then. "Hannah's talking to Daniel."

Brian nodded again, just as Daniel came thru to the kitchen, and Clare went up the back stairs.

"Hey," he greeted Brian. "How'd you and Clare do?"

"No where near as well as you three did," Brian told him. "We didn't see a trace of any cattle."

"Too bad," Daniel said.

"Hannah alright?" Brian asked him.

"Yeah."

Brian just nodded again, and didn't ask anymore questions right then. I knew, or I suspected, that it was because I happened to be

standing there.

"You all can talk in front of me, you know," I offered, washing my hands at the sink, and then drying them.

I was mostly serious, too.

Neither one of them said anything to my comment. Daniel just gave me a half-joking push to move me out of the way, and

began washing his own hands at the sink.

"Start cuttin' up some tomatoes and lettuce, peach," Brian ordered.

I sighed and went to take several tomatoes from the countertop, getting out the cutting board, and beginning to slice

them up for the tacos.

"Is this Steven kid gonna stay for lunch?" Brian asked me then, as he turned the stove burner on and began to warm up the

taco meat.

"I don't know. If he wants to, I guess," I said. "Why? Don't you want him to stay?"

Before Brian could even answer, I went on. "I mean, he gave up his whole morning to come and help out. The least we can do is

have him stay to lunch, don't you think?"

"Good lord, I didn't say anything against it," Brian protested, pausing to look at me.

I felt my face turn warm with embarrassment. "Sorry," I muttered, and went back to my tomato chopping.

The next group to arrive was that of Crane, Guthrie and Steven. We had just gotten the meat all warned up, and the side

stuff set out when they came in, washing up. Steven stood sort of to the side until Brian told him to get washed up

and then pull up a chair to eat.

"Thanks," Steven said, looking a little unsure.

He was given Evan's vacant chair across the table from me, and we were rejoined by Clare and then Hannah and Isaac, who

had his high chair pulled up to the table.

"I hope Adam and Evan are alright," Hannah said, almost as though she said it without thinking.

"They're fine," Crane told her.

I had seen Daniel pulling Crane aside a few minutes before, talking quietly to him, and to Brian, and so I knew that whatever had

upset Hannah, Crane and Brian were in the loop.

The conversation consisted of the cattle that had been found, which was the three we had located, and the five that Crane's group of

he, Guthrie and Steven had found.

"Four left," Crane said. "Hopefully Adam and Evan have rounded them up."

"We can hope so," Brian added.

"How'd you like your long morning in the saddle?" Daniel asked Clare, with a teasing glint in his eye.

"It was enjoyable," she said. "Mostly, anyway."

"She's a rancher now," Brian defended. "Not some city gal who can't handle life on the range."

Clare gave him a slow smile of approval.

We put the food away again when everybody had finished, and everybody helped clear the table, before

going back outside to focus on other chores.

Steven said he ought to be heading home, and mostly everybody had a word to say to him, 'thank you' and 'goodbye' and

'come back again'.

I walked with him to his truck.

"I like your family," he said.

"Yeah. They're a pretty nice group most of the time," I said.

"They sure are."

"How was your morning with Crane and Guthrie?" I asked him.

"It was good. Crane's a real sort of a guy. You know what I mean?"

"I think I do."

"He's-" Steven hesitated, "Well, he's sort of insightful, and he's interesting to talk to."

"He's one of the nicest people that I know," I said.

Steven nodded, and opened the door of his truck. "Want to go to a movie tonight?" he asked me.

I hesitated. "Maybe. I'll have to ask first."

"Okay. I'll call you later on."

"Steven-" I hesitated.

"What?" he asked.

"I really like hanging out with you," I began slowly. "And I think we have a lot in common, and all of that. But-"

"But you think of me as a friend, right?" he finished for me.

"Yeah," I admitted. "But I think we could be really good friends. Be there to support each other, bounce ideas off

each other. You know?"

Instead of looking crushed or disappointed by my 'just friends' speech, Steven grinned a little.

"It's cool, Harlie. I can handle being your friend."

I felt really relieved, and grinned back at him. It was later that I realized that Steven must not have had any romantic

feelings about me, either.

7

I spent the rest of the afternoon picking peaches, which is the chore that I was told to do. I changed into shorts and a tank top

before I went out to our orchard. The temperature was searing, and I knew my jeans and t shirt would be way too hot.

I picked as far up as I could reach, and then I went to fetch a ladder. It was really heavy and I was trying to wrangle it when

Evan came into the barn.

"What are you up to?" he asked me, observing my struggle with the bulky ladder.

"Can you carry this for me?" I asked, instead of answering his question.

"Yeah. Where do you want it carried to?" he asked, as he picked up the ladder.

"To the orchard," I told him.

We began to walk out of the barn to the orchard. "You're not gettin' on here, are you?" he asked.

"Well, yeah I am," I said sassily, "Since I don't have the ability to fly to the top of the trees."

Halfway to the orchard by now, Evan said, "You're all mouth, you know that?"

"Well, it's a dumb question. Why would I ask you to carry the ladder for me unless I was going to climb on it?"

Evan made a 'humph' sort of sound, which suggested that he was vastly irritated with me.

When we were back among the fruit trees, he leaned the ladder up against the nearest peach tree.

"Thank you," I told him.

Instead of answering, Evan proceeded to climb up the ladder himself. "Hand me a bucket," he ordered.

"I can do it," I protested.

"Just hand me a bucket," he insisted.

So I handed him up a bucket, which he took from me and hooked over the top of the ladder.

He began to pick the peaches with a speed that I found impressive, although I didn't say so.

I moved to the pear trees with another bucket, and began to pick there. I was deep in thought and jumped

when a voice right behind my head said, "Hey!"

"Dang it, Guthrie," I told him. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

He laughed, and stomped on over to Evan. "I'm supposed to do that," he told Evan. "Brian needs you, he said."

Evan climbed down the ladder, lowering the nearly full bucket of peaches with him.

"Okay." Then, to me he tossed back a comment of, "Bye, Mouth."

I made a face at him, and he laughed and headed back across the yard.

Guthrie wasted no time in moving the ladder to the next tree, and taking over where Evan had left off.

I remembered suddenly that I should probably give Guthrie a heads up.

"I slipped up yesterday and said something to Crane about talking to that guy in front of the bar," I said, from my spot

at the bottom of the ladder.

"Yeah. I know. He already talked to me," Guthrie said.

He didn't sound particularly bothered, and I was glad about that.

"I should have warned you last night," I said. "But everything was so busy that I forgot. Crane wasn't mean about it, was he?"

"No. Not mean. Just-intense. You know how he is."

"Yeah. I made sure he knew you weren't thrilled with me about talking to that guy. I wasn't trying to get you into any trouble."

"I know," Guthrie said, pausing in his picking to bite into one of the peaches.

After that we both concentrated on picking the peaches, and some of the pears, talking about stuff as we picked.

I told him Steven had asked me to go to another movie, but Guthrie seemed fairly certain that the theater in Angels Camp

was still showing the one that we'd seen the other night.

"Maybe go bowling?" he suggested.

"Yeah. That sounds fun," I agreed.

In a quick change of topic, Guthrie said, "You better not mess around in anybody's vehicles anymore."

"I'm not going to," I told him.

When Guthrie and I had all our buckets filled with fruit, and only a few trees left to pick, we toted the buckets

to the back door, though he carried two buckets at a time to my one.

A discussion was going on in the kitchen, and it continued even though Guthrie and I came in. As they all went on

talking, Guthrie and I went to the sink to wash up. My skin felt all sticky from the juice of some of the peaches.

After we'd washed, we both stood there, leaning against the kitchen counter, quietly listening.

"I know I probably overreacted," Hannah was saying.

"I don't think you did," Clare said, sounding loyal. "I would have been scared, too."

"Hal says there's not much to be done about it," Adam was saying. "Can't accuse somebody when they can't be

identified."

Guthrie and I exchanged a quick glance, wondering what they were talking about.

Brian was pushing the salt shaker back and forth, from one hand to the other. "None of you girls need to be home alone,"

he said, sounding agitated.

"We can't suddenly become prisoners," Hannah protested.

"Maybe not prisoners," Adam said, "But I agree with Brian. One of us needs to be close by the house from now on."

"What's goin' on?" Guthrie asked, and I was glad that he had spoken up.

As if they were seeing us there for the first time, they all turned to look at the two of us.

"Hey, kids," Adam said.

Hannah gave us a smile. "How's the peach picking going?"

"We're done with the peaches. Only a couple of pear trees left," I told her.

"Good job," she said.

"What are you guys talkin' about?" Guthrie persisted.

They all looked at each other and then Brian pulled out the chair on the other side of him, and motioned Guthrie

to come and sit down, and Adam beckoned me over.

Guthrie took the chair, and I stood beside Adam's chair, and he put his arm around my waist.

"Hannah had a threatening phone call today," Adam said.

"Somebody threatened Hannah?" Guthrie burst out.

"Not Hannah specifically," Adam said. "The family in general."

"Well, what kind of threat?" Guthrie asked then.

"Listen for a minute, Guth," Adam said, sounding irritated.

"Alright, sorry," Guthrie said, subsiding.

"Somebody called and when Hannah answered, they told her that the McFaddens should get ready, that trouble was

coming," Adam said grimly.

"Told her that we all need to beware," Brian added.

"Beware of what?" I asked, feeling my stomach knot in nerves.

"He didn't say of what," Hannah said. "I asked him what he was talking about, but he hung up so quickly."

"Did he sound old, or young, or what?" Guthrie asked then.

"I don't know, Guthrie," Hannah said. "It sounded sort of muffled, now that I think about it."

"Why would somebody be threatening us?" I asked. "I mean, what did any of us do to make somebody

mad?"

Nobody really answered that. I guess they were as puzzled as I was.

"Well, like I said, one of us will be near the house from now on," Adam said. "And, Hannah, I want you to keep

a rifle nearby, too."

"Oh, Adam," Hannah said, sounding upset. "We can't be afraid. Not in our own home. It's not right."

"Whether it's right or not isn't the point anymore," Crane said. "Precautions need to be taken."

"I know you're right," Hannah said.

"I think we should have a couple of practice sessions with the rifle, too," Adam told her. "It's been awhile since

you've fired a gun."

"Clare can join those sessions," Brian volunteered. "She needs a good bit of practice."

"I didn't know that being Annie Oakley was one of the requirements to marry you," Clare said, trying to inject a

note of humor into the conversation.

Brian gave her a half-smile, but still looked serious.

"That means you too, peach," Brian told me. "You should be able to at least hit the broad side of a barn."

Now, I've done my share of target practice over the years with my brothers. I can hit certain targets with a

pistol, but with a rifle, I'm inept. It's not something that they insisted on me becoming proficient at.

I gave Guthrie a quick look, which he interpreted correctly. He knew that I didn't want anybody working with me

that was going to end up short-tempered over my shooting skills. Or rather, the lack of them.

"I'll help them," Guthrie volunteered.

"Aw, thanks, Guthrie," Clare told him. "You're a prince."

"We'll see how it works out for who does what exactly," Adam said, and Guthrie gave me a shrug, as if to say,

'well, I tried'.

It wasn't until much later that it occurred to me, from who and why Hannah might have gotten that phone call.

7


	13. Guthrie's bombshell

The mood around the house the rest of the early evening was subdued. Evan went to town to pick Nancy up for a date, even

though Hannah didn't really want him to go. She seemed to think that danger was going to be lurking around every corner

in Murphys.

I'd had a shower by then, and put on some clean jeans and a yellow t-shirt. I didn't think there was going to be

much chance of me getting out of the house to go with Steven anywhere. Not with the way Hannah was acting. Not to mention

the various brothers that would probably put the nix on it as well. Still, I gave it a try.

I leaned over the back of the couch, in the spot between Adam and Crane, and across from Brian.

"Steven asked me to go out tonight," I said, trying to sound casual.

Immediately Hannah leaned forward, over Adam to look at me. "Oh, Harlie, I don't know," she said, sounding worried.

"To where?" Adam asked. He sounded calm enough.

"Angels Camp. To the movies. Or maybe bowling."

It seemed as though the three of them, Adam, Brian and Crane, exchanged a look that spoke without words.

"I don't think so, sugar," Adam said. "Not tonight." He turned to look at me. "Not with things all stirred up the

way they are."

I sighed, getting that whole 'prisoner' thing that Hannah had been talking about earlier.

"This whole thing sucks," I said in complaint.

"It does," Adam said, in agreement.

Brian, who'd been sitting directly across from the couch, watching, and listening, gave me a steady look. I

gave another sigh, though I understood how they felt. I did. Still, after just being ungrounded so recently, I wanted

to get out and have some summer fun.

"Okay," I said, and started to stand up from my position leaning on the couch.

"I have an idea," Hannah spoke up, still leaning forward. "You could ask Steven to come back over here tonight." She

gave me a half-smile. "I know it's not as much fun as going out, but it's better than nothing. Right?"

"Yeah. I can ask him," I said. "Thanks, Hannah."

So I went to call Steven, instead of waiting for him to call me. His mother went to call him, and he came to the

phone, breathless.

"I thought I'd catch you before you tried to call me," I said. I explained then about the phone call that had happened that

day, and how the family was in hunker-down mode.

"Sure. I understand," he said.

"You could come over here," I said. "If you want to."

"Oh." There was a pause. "Well, sure, if it's okay with your family."

"Hannah suggested it," I told him.

We made arrangements for him to come over in around an hour, and I went back to tell Hannah what he had

said. She looked happy and said, "There's some cookies, and plenty of Coke, I think."

Guthrie, who was stretched out on the floor, his elbow resting on a pillow, spoke up, "I was gonna go get Kristin and go to

Butch's or somethin'."

"Same thing goes for you, Guth," Adam said. "About staying home. At least for tonight."

"Kristin can come over here, too," Hannah told him.

"Okay," Guthrie said, not arguing.

Guthrie stretched and got to his feet, tossing the pillow back onto the other couch.

"We could go frog gigging," he told me, with a grin.

"We could," I agreed, and grinned back.

7

And so, that's what we did. I changed back into some older clothes, a pair of jeans that were pretty well worn out, and

a ragged t-shirt that used to belong to Ford.

"Way to dress to impress a boy, peach," Brian said dryly, when he got a glimpse of me.

"I don't have to impress Steven," I said, and meant it.

"Well, that's good," Brian said, and he sounded as though he meant it, too.

When I opened the door to Steven, I saw that he'd worn some of his better clothes. Jeans that were obviously new,

and a snap up western shirt.

"Hi, Harlie," he greeted me.

"Hi." I leaned against the door. "You look nice."

"Well, thanks," he said, with a smile.

"Too nice."

"Huh?" he asked, confused.

"We're going frog gigging," I told him.

"Yeah? I've never been," he admitted.

"You can borrow some old clothes from one of the boys," I said.

So, that's what he did. By the time he was done, he was wearing a pair of Ford's jeans, and one of Guthrie's frayed

t-shirts.

When we headed off to the creek, loaded down with all the supplies that a person needs to go frog gigging, the four of

us were laughing the whole way. We took our chances on the old canoe, and I had the most fun that I've had in

a really long time.

7

The next morning, at breakfast, Kristin was squeezed in between Guthrie and me, since she'd stayed the night.

The day started out alright, and was made better when Nancy showed up, too, and she and Kristin, Hannah and Clare and I

started the preparations of canning peaches.

It was, of course, a long, and arduous undertaking. Hannah seemed driven to not leave one peach behind, either uncanned or

unjellied. The kitchen was like an oven. Kristin had never helped to can anything before, but Nancy seemed to be a pro at

it.

"I've helped my aunt for years and years," she told us all.

Once, when I expressed my regret at yet another bucket of peaches to process, Hannah told me that I would glad

when, in the winter, there was such an abundance of canned fruit.

When she said, "Next we start on the pears," and I gave her a look of panic, she laughed.

"I'm just teasing you," she told me.

Then, when I sighed in relief, she ruined it by adding, "We'll do the pears next week."

7

Lunch was quick, and not much to speak of, just sandwiches, since there was canning supplies laying everywhere.

When the boys complained about how hot the kitchen was, Clare told them to hush up.

"Try being in here, working," she told them.

"Why didn't you bring up some more fans?" Brian asked. "There's at least two more down in the basement."

"We didn't think of it," Hannah said.

Brian gave an exaggerated eye roll. "Come with me, Ford," he said, and started down the basement stairs. "We'll bring them up

for you all." His parting shot was, "Leave it to us menfolks to have to tend to you females."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Clare told him. "Go get the fans."

Daniel and Evan had gone to town, planning to purchase some lumber to build a project, and we started lunch without

them.

When they did come, they came in quietly enough, but it was obvious to everyone that they were both

agitated about something.

Adam, on his way back to the table after mixing some lemonade, paused midway, glass in hand.

"What's up?" he asked, tuned-in to their mood.

Evan and Daniel exchanged a glance, and then Evan burst forth with, "Two of my tires were flattened in town."

At first it seemed to be the first impression that he meant he'd had the misfortune to have two flat tires, just out of

the blue.

But his look was dark and angry, and Adam said, "What? Like sliced?"

"Yeah," Evan said.

Immediately the mood at the table changed. It seemed as though you could feel the tenseness.

"What happened?" Crane asked.

"We got the lumber loaded up, and then made a couple of other stops. We dropped that film off for Crane, and then

stopped to have a beer with Stewart Peterson," Daniel said.

"When we came out, somebody had taken a blade to two of my tires," Evan finished.

"While you were parked right there?" Nancy asked him, looking disbelieving.

"Yeah," Evan said grimly.

For a long few moments there was quiet, and then Adam went back to his seat.

"I used the spare and then had to go to Jake's to buy another tire," Evan said.

"Nobody saw anything?" Brian asked, his jaw set.

"Nope," Daniel told him.

"This puts everything in a whole different way," Adam said, as if he was thinking out loud.

"Do you think this has something to do with that phone call?" Ford spoke up.

"I'd say it's a safe bet that it does," Evan said.

"Maybe not," Hannah said, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself. "Maybe it was just a coincidence, kids

playing a joke, or something."

"Slashing tires isn't a joke, Hannah," Evan told her, and then, when Hannah's face sort of wilted, he said, more gently,

"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's alright," Hannah said, and gave Evan a half-smile. "We're all a little bit on edge, I think."

That was putting it mildly, I thought.

"I'll call the sheriff to make a report as soon as I eat," Evan said.

I rode along when Guthrie took Kristin home later that afternoon. We were told by Hannah, and then Adam, too,

to go straight to her house, drop her off, and then come back home. No going to Butch's, or even the Dari Kurl.

A fact which irritated Guthrie immensely. He understood, as I did, that the precautions were for our protection in

whatever nutty situation we'd found ourselves suddenly involved in. Still, it was summer. And we couldn't even go to the Dari Kurl?

That was beyond irritating.

It wasn't the family that we were frustrated with. It was the unknown person or persons who was making phone

calls to threaten, or sticking a blade into Evan's tires.

"Maybe whoever it was, will stop now that they've done that to Evan's tires," I suggested, not really believing it myself.

"Not likely," Guthrie said darkly.

"Can you imagine the fight that would have happened if Daniel and Evan had seen them doing it?" I asked.

"Yeah. That would have been bad," Guthrie agreed.

After that we just drove mostly in silence, and I held my arm out my open window, letting the wind blow against it.

"I need to earn some money," Guthrie broke into that quiet.

"How come?" I asked him, leaning my head back against the seat.

"I need to save some up," he said then, still not answering my question.

"Well, me too," I agreed. "But what in particular for you?"

Guthrie hesitated, and gave me a side-long glance. "Alright. I'm gonna tell you somethin', Har. But you've gotta

promise that you won't say anything to anybody else. Not yet."

I sat up, giving him my full attention. "What?" I asked, my curiosity on high alert.

"I'm thinkin' about joining the National Guard."

Well, I just sat there. Stocked into silence. Which for me, is saying something. Usually I'm not at a loss for words.

At least not with Guthrie.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, which was, I guess, sort of a stupid question.

"The National Guard," he said. "It's where-"

"I know what the National Guard is," I interrupted him. "It's the Army. You can't join the Army, Guth."

"First of all, it's not the Army. I mean, it's like the Army, but you don't serve full-time. You go to boot camp, and

then you serve one weekend a month, and a couple of weeks in the summer," he explained.

"Why would you want to do that?" I demanded, still shocked.

"Well, because. It's a way to earn some money, and it would be interesting. And, because I'd like to serve

the country."

"You've never, not even once, mentioned that you wanted to join the Army!" I accused him.

"National Guard. Not Army," he repeated.

"It's a branch of the Armed Forces!" I insisted, feeling all wound up.

"Okay. So what?" he asked.

"So how long have you been thinking about this?" I asked.

"I don't know. Awhile now," he said vaguely.

"You might have to go to war! I don't want you to have to do that," I said.

"I might have to go to help with an emergency somewhere," he said. "Like in a flood, or a riot or somethin'. I probably

wouldn't ever have to go fight in a war."

"You don't know that. You might have to!"

"Well, then I would," Guthrie said simply.

I glared at him, and subsided in frustration, my thoughts running amuck. I stared at the window, my arms crossed.

After a few minutes of silence, we were nearing the road turning to our house, and Guthrie said, "How come you're mad?"

"I'm not," I denied, still not looking at him.

"Har. Come on," he said, in his coaxing voice.

I turned to him, and took a deep breath. "I just don't want you to get hurt," I tried to explain. "And-and I guess I'm just

sort of surprised. I mean, we talk a lot and you never said anything about it before."

"I'm telling you now," Guthrie pointed out reasonably. "And I haven't told anybody else."

"Well," I said, considering, "What about our plans? With the ranch, and raising horses and all of that?"

"I'm still on board with all of that," he said. "This is just some extra money to help that along. And I think it'd be

a good experience. I'd learn a lot."

"So your mind's made up?" I asked.

"Not a hundred percent made up. But I'm pretty sure, yeah."

"What about the boot camp? How long is that?" I asked.

"Eight weeks or so."

"Well, what about school? How would you manage that and go to school, too?"

"I don't know. The ideal thing would be if I could do the boot camp thing this summer," Guthrie said.

Now he really had succeeded in shocking me.

"Before you're eighteen? Adam would have to sign for you, right?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"He won't," I predicted.

"I'm gonna talk to him about it soon," Guthrie said.

"Tell me when you're doing it," I said, with a half-smile. "I don't want to be anywhere around when you do."

"Yeah. Okay."

"I'm just teasing," I said. "I'll stick up for you any way that I can."

"Thanks, Har," he said, and grinned at me.

I looked at his sunny face, and thought how much I'd miss him if he was gone for eight weeks.

7


	14. Cryptic message

That evening, after supper, Daniel and Crane went out to the porch, to sit and work on music. Evan, still in a funk about

his tires being slashed, sat in front of the television watching a western, along with Guthrie.

Ford had gone, with some argument from Hannah, over to Valerie's house.

"We're just going to watch a movie or something," he told Hannah.

"Well, alright." She leaned in to give Ford a hug. "I'm sorry. I know I'm probably overreacting-"

"It's okay," Ford said, in his calm way, hugging her back.

Adam and Hannah had gone up to their bedroom, along with Isaac. Adam had looked exhausted during supper.

I made popcorn again, and curled up in a chair, reading Pride and Predudice, across from Brian and Clare.

Clare was stretched out, her feet in Brian's lap, and they were both reading, too.

When the phone began to ring, I was the one who got up to go answer it. After I said 'hello?' Lori's

voice came across the telephone, and we talked for a few minutes. I pulled the extra long cord around,

and sat on the bottom step of the stairs while I talked.

She asked me if I was going to come to spend the night the next night like we had planned earlier in the

week. I hesitated, but then thought that surely the family would have no objections. I would be right there,

at Lori's house, safe and sound, not running the streets or coming into contact with the mysterious 'tire slasher'.

"My mom wants to know if you're coming for sure or not," Lori told me. "She said she'll get some extra snacks for us."

"Okay. Hold on a minute," I told her, and stood up, lowering the phone receiver to rest it against my thigh.

"Hey, Bri," I said, and he looked up from his gun magazine.

"What?"

"Lori wants to know if I can spend the night tomorrow night," I told him.

"No," he said, simply and shortly, and turned back to his reading.

"We'd be at her house," I said. "We wouldn't go anywhere by ourselves."

He didn't say anything, and I covered the phone so Lori couldn't hear.

"We'd stay right there, I promise," I persisted.

Brian turned a little, so that he was facing me, and rested his arm along the back of the couch.

"What did I say?" he asked.

It was the sort of question that is asked, when the person asking it knows exactly what was said, and they know

that you know it, too. Not to mention the look on Brian's face. It was set. And irritated.

"You said 'no'," I said, feeling my stomach knot a little.

Brian met my eyes, intently. "Right," he said. His voice was quiet enough, but spoke a lot more than that one word.

"Okay," I said, and pulled the cord around to sit back down on the bottom stair.

"Brian said no," I told her. "Because of everything that's going on. Sorry."

"It's okay," Lori said, sounding disappointed. "I wish you could, though. Do you think if my mom called him, he

might change his mind?"

I looked towards Brian, who'd turned back around, and I knew that if I'd had Lori's mom ask first, it might

have been different. But, if she called now, and talked to Brian, he'd be really mad at me, since he'd already

refused permission.

"No. I better not," I said.

After that, we didn't talk much longer, promising to talk again in the next day or so.

I hung the phone up, and went quietly back to my chair, picking up my book and going back to the page I'd been

reading. I looked up to see Brian sitting there, watching me, and immediately I felt squirmy. He was going to

holler at me, I knew it. To my surprise, and immense relief, he held my gaze for a long, long few moments, and then

went back to reading his magazine.

Those moments were really uncomfortable, but I thought maybe he was just going to let the conversation pass by.

7

I was out of the shower, and in my pajamas, and opened the bathroom door, going down the hall to my bedroom.

The door was already open, and Brian was sitting on the side of my bed. I stopped for a moment, in the

doorway, and then went on in.

"Hi," I said, feeling my stomach flutter with nerves. Not that it was impossible that he had just come to say good night. It was

unlikely, however, after the whole Lori-phone call thing.

"Hi," he answered. Then, "Close the door."

Well, that answered any doubts that I had. I sighed, and turned to close the door behind me.

When I just stood there, looking at him a little nervously, he said, his voice quiet, "I want to talk to you."

"Okay," I said, my voice just as quiet.

"Since when is it okay for you to argue with me when I tell you 'no' about something?" he asked.

"It's not," I said. "It's not okay, I mean."

"No means no, Harlie."

I nodded. "I know it does," I said, subdued.

"So what was that all about? You testing the waters, or what?" Brian asked.

I didn't know what to say, really, so I shrugged my shoulders a little in answer.

"That's not an answer," he said.

"I shouldn't have asked again, after you said no," I said, and bit at my lip a little. "It's just-it's summer, and it's supposed

to be time to have fun."

For a couple of long moments, we just looked at each other.

"Comere," he said, and I went over to stand beside the bed, a little reluctantly. Once there, he took my

hand, and tugged me down, to sit beside him on the bed.

"We just want you kids to stay close to home for a while," he said then. "Until we figure out what's going on."

"I know," I sighed.

"We're just concerned about keepin' everybody safe," Brian went on.

I nodded at him. "I know that."

I would have pointed out that I would have been perfectly safe at Lori's house, but knew it would be best

to refrain from a comment like that.

"Alright." He laid a hand on my leg. "But for whatever reason, if you're told no about something, then that's

final. Got it?"

I met his eye. "Got it."

7

The next day began as a usual sort of day. Chores, housework, helping with Isaac. Hannah went upstairs to lay down

in the afternoon, and I volunteered to watch the baby. I took him outside, pushing him down the driveway in his

stroller. While I was doing that, Daniel came up the driveway, after stopping at the mail box.

He pulled up beside me, and stepped on the brake. "Hey," he greeted me.

"Hey," I said, leaning in his open window. "Did we get a lot of mail?"

"Yeah. Mostly junk. And bills, it looks like."

"Maybe we won the sweepstakes," I said.

"Maybe so," Daniel said, looking down as he sifted thru the pile of mail. "Here's somethin' for you," he said, and

handed me an envelope.

I hardly ever get any mail, so I took it from him, and my first reaction was to be pleased.

There was no return address, and my name and address were written in a curly type of handwriting.

"I wonder if it's from Karissa," I said, and Daniel looked concerned.

"Hmm," he said. "Well, if it is, and she's tryin' to start anything up, you need to let somebody else see it."

"Okay," I said.

"You and Scooter want a ride up to the house?" he asked me.

"No, thanks," I said.

"Okay," Daniel said, and drove on.

Since we were at the end of the driveway anyway, I turned the stroller around, prepared to begin walking back up.

I crouched down beside the stroller to open the letter. I was curious enough about who it was from that I didn't want to wait.

"Who's it from, do you think, Isaac?" I asked, as the baby reached out and tried to grab at the envelope.

"Just a minute, baby," I told him. "I'll let you hold the envelope."

I took out the letter inside, and handed the envelope to Isaac, who promptly and cheerfully began to chew on it.

And, as I began to read, I felt my heart begin to pound, and I stood up.

The words were few, but sent a chill down my back.

"I know who wants to hurt your family. Meet me in Murphys Saturday afternoon behind the

lumberyard. At two."

It was signed, simply, "S."

7

I tucked the letter into my back jean's pocket, and pushed the stroller back up the driveway, feeling as though

I was in a trance.

Over Isaac's babbling, I ran thru my racing thoughts.

What should I do? There was no doubt in my mind that Seth had written and sent the letter. Why would he

want to meet me? I mean, besides the obvious answers of wanting to scare me, or put the moves on me. And

how would he know who it was that wanted to cause the McFaddens trouble? I'd been fairly certain that he had been the

one that made the mysterious threatening call to Hannah.

But, maybe not. Maybe it hadn't been Seth. Maybe he really did know something. But, even if I'd been allowed to

go to town by myself and could meet up with him, I wouldn't do it. That was just out and out stupidity, and I knew it.

No good could come of it. I had the sudden, traitorious thought that maybe I could learn something, though, and help

my family.

No, I stopped my mind from going there. All that would lead to was trouble.

I made it up to the house, and pushed Isaac thru the yard. Daniel had backed the truck up to one of the sheds, and

was unloading some lumber.

"Hey," he called to me, and so I pushed the stroller over to him.

"Was it from Karissa?" he asked me.

When I looked at him blankly for a moment, he prompted, "The letter? Is it from her?"

"Um, no," I said.

"Oh," Daniel said, and then took another board from the stack in the back of the truck. I hesitated, watching him.

"Daniel?" I said, and when he stopped to look at me again, I pulled the letter from my pocket and handed it to him.

Daniel wiped his arm across his forehead, and then reached out to take the paper from me.

"What's goin' on?" he asked me, taking note of my nervous demeanor.

"I don't know," I said, and he began to read the letter.

He read it, and then appeared to read it again, looking up, his eyes flashing.

"What the hell," he said.

"This mean anything to you?" he asked me then.

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"Alright," he said, handing it back to me. "Go find Adam, or Brian, and show them."

"Now?" I asked. "Or can it wait until supper?"

"Do it now," Daniel said.

"Okay," I said. "Where are they, do you know?"

"Check the barn, or ask Hannah," Daniel told me. "I'll go see where Crane is."

"Okay," I said again, and went back towards the house, taking Isaac from his stroller, and toting him up the stairs.

Inside the house, the fans were running, and it was cool, and smelled like brownies.

I went first to the kitchen, but saw nobody, and then started up the back stairs when I heard the back door open, and

came back down, half-way. I caught a glimpse of booted feet, and heard the opening and closing of the kitchen cabinets

and water running. I went back down the stairs again, pausing on the bottom.

Adam was filling a glass with water, and when I said, "Adam?" he turned with a jerk.

"Dang, sugar," he said. "You startled me. I didn't hear you."

"Sorry," I said.

Adam came forward, taking Isaac from me. "How's little Bug?" he asked me.

"He's good. We went for a walk."

"That's good," Adam said, kissing the baby on the forehead, while Isaac chortled happily.

I dug the letter back out of my pocket. "I got a letter in the mail," I said.

"Yeah?" he asked, still smiling at the baby.

"Uh huh."

Adam looked at me again, as I held it out to him. "I showed Daniel, and he said to show you right away," I said.

Adam read it, which took only a couple of seconds, and then he lowered it to look at me again, his jaw set.

"This came to you?" he asked me.

"Yeah."

"What'd the envelope say? The return address?" he asked.

"It didn't have one," I told him.

"Let me see it," he said.

"I let Isaac hold it," I said. I thought for a moment. "I think it's still in the stroller, outside."

"Go get it."

So I hurried back thru the house, to the front porch, and down the stairs, to where I'd left the stroller.

I grabbed the envelope, which was a bit worse for wear, after having Isaac bend and chew on it. I tried to straighten

it out as I walked, smoothing over the wet places.

Adam had put Isaac on the rug in the living room to play with his toys, and was waiting, pushing the screen door

open as I came back up the steps.

He reached out and took the envelope from me, looking it over. I stood beside him, peering at it, too.

"See, no return address," I pointed out.

"Mailed from Angels Camp," Adam said, thoughtfully.

"Oh. Does that mean something?" I asked.

"Not necessarily." He turned to look down at me. "So, what do you think about this?" he asked me then, his

tone serious and to the point.

"I don't know. I think-" I paused.

"You think what?" he prompted me.

"I think it's from Seth," I said. "I mean, more than likely it is."

Adam nodded, looking grim. "I imagine that you're right."

We stood there, in quiet, for a few minutes. He handed the letter and envelope back to me. "Put these on

the desk," he told me. "I'll call Hal after awhile."

I nodded, and he said, "Where's Hannah?"

"Taking a nap or helping Clare upstairs, I think."

"Alright." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Don't answer the phone, alright?"

I knew he was thinking that Seth might try to call, and I nodded.

"I'll be back in shortly," he told me, and went out.

I watched Isaac after that, lying on the floor on my stomach, watching while he played with his toys.

When Hannah came downstairs, she was apologizing.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't intend to sleep so long, and have you take care of the baby all

afternoon," she told me.

"It's alright," I said, sitting up. "We were outside for awhile."

"Oh, I know he liked that," Hannah said, leaning down to pick Isaac up, and nuzzling his neck.

I told Hannah briefly about the letter and that I'd talked to Adam about it already. Her face was lined

with worry, and she sat on the couch, holding the baby.

"This is craziness," she said.

I was quiet and she said, "Well, it will get sorted out. Do you want to help me with supper?"

So that's where we were, joined eventually by Clare, who'd also been taking a nap.

"None of us are sleeping very well," Hannah said. "I know Adam's not. Is Brian?"

"No. He was up and down all night," Clare said.

I was setting the table when my brothers all began trooping inside, scraping their boots on the rug at the door, and

going to the sink to wash up.

We ate supper, and the discussion fell to the letter, and what the explanation could be.

It wasn't the most pleasant topic of conversation, and it made my stomach hurt. I pushed my bowl of beef stew

away, only half-eaten, and nibbled on my celery.

The phone began ringing, and Brian went to answer it, coming back to say in disgust, "Said hello three times, and they

hung up without answering."

7

RESPONSE AND THOUGHTS

In response to the last chapter of this story, where Guthrie discussed joining the National Guard with Harlie, it seemed alot

of readers didn't like that, and didn't feel that it was something that Guthrie would do. That it was not within the range of his

personality.

That could be. All I can say about it is this. It's what the 'muse' told me to write. And yeah, sometimes I can control the 'muse' and

say that I wont write something in particular, but in this case I didn't.

It was more to show the relationship between Guthrie and Harlie, the closeness that they share. I don't really think that it is

something that Guthrie will follow thru with. At least at this time I think that.

Guthrie is getting older, and thinking about his possibilities in life, considering what he might want to do.

There was a guest reviewer who I cant address personally, and she thinks that Guthrie is 'beyond goody-goody' and

not believable as a McFadden.

I guess what I think of that is that yes, he is pretty laid-back. Not a big rebel. I'm not trying to make the teenage Guthrie

out to be perfect by any means. I just look at the way River Phoenix played the part, and think how he was as a 12 year old,

with that sweet smile, and cheery disposition.

I might try to make Guthrie become a bit more rebellious, more of a "knothead", but I fear the 'muse' will

fight me on that. LOL.

Anyway, just some thoughts and explanation.

Thank you, thank you, to my faithful reviewers and supporters! Long live the McFaddens!


	15. Hood ornament

That evening, around six o'clock, the sheriff came back over to our house. He was joined by the deputy that had

come with him the first time, the one that was from the city and who didn't ride very well.

They sat down in the living room, having coffee, while Evan talked about the tire incident in town, and then Adam

told them about the letter that had come in the mail that day, addressed to me.

After asking Daniel and Evan some questions, about where they'd been parked at, and if they'd seen anyone hanging

around Evan's truck. Questions like that. The deputy took some notes, and then the sheriff read over the short

letter.

"Why do you think this might have come addressed to Harlie?" the sheriff asked, in a general way.

"We figure it might be from the Foreman kid," Adam said.

"Do you have a history of some sort with him?" the sheriff asked, turning to me where I was sitting

beside Brian on one of the couches.

I felt really uncomfortable at that point. It was embarrassing, with everybody looking at me, and remembering

all the stuff that had happened with Seth.

"Did you date him?" the sheriff went on.

"No," I said. "I mean, not really."

The sheriff looked a bit confused, and Brian gave my leg a light tap. "Explain to Hal what you mean by that."

"He gave me a ride home once. And I guess he thought I'd go out with him sometime," I said, feeling my face

turn warm as the sheriff looked at me.

"He bothered Harlie quite a bit at school last year," Hannah defended me.

"Guthrie and him had a couple of go-arounds, too," Adam added.

"Hmm," the sheriff said. "Well, it sounds as though the tire-slashing might have something to do with the phone call

you all got the other day, alright. As far as the letter, though, that's more of a puzzle." He turned to me again.

"Can you think of anybody else with the initial S that might have sent the letter?"

I shook my head. "No, sir."

"Alright. Well, I'll hang onto this," the sheriff said, waving the letter. He got to his feet, setting his empty cup on the coffee table, while the deputy did the same. "And I advise against you keeping this two o'clock meeting on Saturday, with whoever it might be."

"No danger of her keepin' it," Brian said, with finality.

"Well, good. I'll try to see if I can have somebody close by, to see if it's the Foreman kid that shows up," the sheriff said.

"Thank you for the coffee."

"You're welcome," Hannah said, and the two men headed out onto the front porch, followed by Adam, and Crane, and they all stood talking for a few more minutes.

Brian went back towards the kitchen, saying that he was going to get some more sweet tea to drink. Clare said she was going upstairs to do some sewing. I was in the kitchen, along with Brian, when Ford and Evan came in, too. Evan hoisted himself up onto the counter to sit, biting into an apple.

"You have enough money to pay Jake for the new tire?" Brian asked Evan.

"Yeah. I had enough. But damn, tires have gotten expensive," Evan complained.

Ford took the pitcher of tea from Brian, and poured himself some. "I was thinking about doing some work in town," he said.

"Where at?" Brian asked him.

"The print shop."

"We've got enough around here to do," Brian pointed out.

"I could squeeze in some time for the extra work," Ford said.

Brian made a 'hmm' sort of reply, and then added, "I don't know, Ford."

Adam walked into the kitchen to hear the tail end of the conversation. "What extra work?" he asked.

Ford sat down at the table, not answering immediately, and Brian said, "Beans has it in his head to get some

extra work in town."

Adam turned to Ford. "Doing what?" he asked.

"At the print shop," Ford told him.

Adam was standing there, looking surprised, and disapproving, too.

"Helping to print up the stuff for the street dance and for the Fourth of July," Ford added.

"What brought this on?" Adam asked.

"I just thought the extra money would help," Ford said.

"For the Fall's college expenses?" Adam asked him.

"No. For here," Ford said. "For the family."

"Ford," Adam said, with a sigh. "You don't need to do that."

"I want to," Ford said.

"With everything goin' on, it might not be the best time," Brian threw into the conversation.

"I'll be careful," Ford said.

Adam sat down at the table across from Ford, regarding him solemnly. "Look what happened with Evan's truck, and him

just parked for a short time," Adam pointed out.

"So we're gonna be afraid to go into town, even?" Ford asked, with uncustomary stubbornness.

I watched the conversation between Ford and Adam and Brian with interest, though I hoped it wouldn't turn into

an argument.

For a moment both Brian and Adam were silent.

"He's got a point," Brian said.

"Maybe so," Adam said in agreement. "But it's still a worry." He paused, looking considering. "What about all the work around here, then?"

"That's what I say," Brian said.

"I'd do my share," Ford said. "And it's not like it would be that many hours at the print shop anyway."

"I don't like it much," Adam said. "But you're grown, Ford. It's your decision to make."

"It'll be alright," Ford said, as if to convince Adam not to worry.

"But any money you make is yours," Adam went on. "Use it for school in the fall."

7

The next morning I went to pick pears, before the heat started climbing. I saw Ford at a distance, riding back

in with Evan, and, while I picked fruit, they unsaddled their horses, and Ford went to his truck, opening the door.

"Hey!" I called to him, and then again, louder, "Ford!"

He half-turned to see where the shout was coming from, and then waved to me.

I put the pear that I'd just pulled from the tree into the bucket, and sprinted over to Ford.

"Where are you going?" I asked him.

"To town."

"To talk to Mr. Anderson?" I asked.

"Yeah. And run a couple of errands."

"Can I ride along with you?" I asked, wiping my hands on my jeans.

"Sure, if you want."

"I'll go wash my hands and tell Hannah, okay?" I said.

"Well, hurry," he said.

I ran in thru the back door, letting the screen door slam behind me. The kitchen empty, I washed

my hands and my arms from sticky fruit, and went up the back stairs.

I found Hannah and Clare beside the hallway closet upstairs, with masses of stuff setting around.

"We're cleaning," Clare told me, with a laugh.

I was glad that I hadn't gotten pulled into this particular chore.

"I'm almost done with the pears," I said. "I was going to ride with Ford to town. Alright?"

Hannah paused, pushing her hair from her face.

"You stay with Ford, alright?" she told me. "Just to be safe."

"I will," I said.

I told them both goodbye, and flew back down the stairs.

Ford stopped at the Dari Kurl when we got to town, and bought us both a hamburger and fries.

"Thanks, Fordie," I said, munching on my fries as we drove back out onto the main street.

"I know that's why you wanted to come along with me," he said with a grin. "Hoping that I'd buy you

lunch."

"Now you know the truth," I joked back, as he parked in front of the newspaper office, and got out. "You coming in?" he asked me.

"In a minute. I'm going to finish my hamburger first."

"Okay," he said, and then leaned back into his open truck window. "Stay out of my fries, though."

"It's a chance you take," I told him glibly, and crossed my eyes at him.

I sat there, finishing up my hamburger, and nibbling on my fries, and watching townspeople walking back

and forth between the stores and up and down the sidewalks.

After a few minutes I got out and went inside the air-conditioned newspaper office. I spent a few minutes talking

to Maxie Kinder, who works at the front desk, taking orders over the phone and all that. She asked all sorts of

questions about the family, wanting to know how everyone was.

I was still sitting there, just talking and enjoying the cool air, when Ford came thru from the back part of the

office, followed by Mr. Anderson.

Then I had to talk to Mr. Anderson, who wanted to know how old I was now, and what grade in school that I'd be in

in the fall and all of that. Mr. Anderson knew most of my brothers, since he'd had kids the same age as Crane and Daniel.

"Alright, Ford," Mr. Anderson said, as we were heading out the door. "We'll see you on Tuesday."

"Thank you," Ford told him, and held the door open, as I went out ahead of him.

"You got the job, huh?" I asked him, when we were outside on the sidewalk.

"Yep."

I cast a glance across the street at the vet office. "I sure miss coming in, and working at the vet office," I said,

feeling a sudden pang of sadness for Doc G.

Ford gave me a sympathetic half-smile.

After that, Ford stopped at the grocery store, saying that he'd told Hannah he would pick up some more milk.

"Okay," I said, propping my feet up on the dash. "I'll wait out here."

"Oh, come on," he coaxed.

I took another French fry and got out with a sigh.

"Let's do something fun today," I said, in sudden inspiration.

"Like what?" he asked as we began to walk into the store.

"Go bowling?" I suggested. "Just you and me? We could call home and let somebody know."

"There's a lot of work at home to do," Ford said.

"Please?" I asked.

"We'll see," he said, which I knew meant yes, that we could go over to Angels Camp and go bowling.

"I'll even let you win," I said, with a smile up at him.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, giving me a push.

Inside the grocery store, I trailed after Ford as he searched for the stuff Hannah had asked for. I was sort of absent-mindedly wandering behind him when I saw Seth out of the corner of one eye, checking out up front.

I tugged at the back of Ford's t-shirt. "Look, Ford," I said, with a nod.

Ford looked, and then said, "Just stay with me."

Seth was gone, and we had checked out, with Ford carrying the bag of groceries, coming back out into the

California heat. And there, beside Ford's truck, were three guys. I'd never seen any of them before,

and while one stood apart just a bit, another one leaned completely against the passenger door, and the third one was actually sitting on the hood!

The one sitting on the hood of the truck was smoking a cigarette, and when we came out, they all looked at us, but

none of them said anything. They didn't even acknowledge our presence.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask them what the heck they thought they were doing, but I kept still, sensing

the tension radiating from Ford.

"Can I do something for you fellas?" Ford asked, sort of quietly.

The one sitting on the hood flicked his cigarette to the ground, and said, "I don't think so. We don't need him to do

anything for us, do we, Bryce?"

The one leaning against my door laughed and said, "Naw, I don't think we do."

I felt my initial misgivings flutter their way to nervousness. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

"Well, then, I'm gonna have to ask you all to find another place to sit and lean," Ford said. "Since we need to be

getting in and heading home."

Again, it was if we weren't there at all. None of them even reacted or acknowledged Ford's comment. Nervousness on my part ignited into fear.

I looked around, thinking that there must be somebody coming by that we knew that would see what was

happening.

"You're the girl that has a fella's name, aren't you?" the one leaning against the door said, looking directly at me. I was so startled that I stared at him. He looked like he was in his early twenties or so, maybe a little older. He had his hair cut short, and he was a big guy. Thick and muscular.

I started to say something back to him, but before I could get the words out, Ford stepped over a bit, so that he was

more in front of me. Then calmly, he said, "Come on," to me, indicating to me to follow him to the driver's side of the truck.

I did that, and he opened his truck door. "Get in," he told me, and I climbed up into the truck cab, scooting across the seat until I was in the middle, sort of. I didn't want to slide completely over to my side, since the one that had talked to me was still leaning there, with his elbow on the inside of the window.

Ford leaned in then, and handed me the sack of groceries, and then he turned, so that he was looking directly across the hood at all three of the men.

He spoke in a voice that I'd never heard him use before. He didn't raise his voice. Not at all. But there was an edge, a

hardness, to his tone that I'd never heard before.

"I'm getting in my truck, and I'm gonna be starting it up, and driving away. So unless you want to go for a ride on

the top like a deer, I'd suggest that you get off, and step back."

And then, Ford got in, settled behind the steering wheel, and slammed his door. He took the key from his pocket,

and started the motor. And still, the guy on the hood just sat there, his back to us, and lighting another cigarette.

"Ford," I said, really low, and frightened. In that brief moment that seemed an eternity, I wondered what Ford would do

if the guy didn't get off.

"It's alright," Ford said, just as low, and calmly.

"Let me go get somebody-" I said.

"Just sit still," he said.

And then, he shifted into reverse, and backed out, and gunned the motor a bit, and the guy on the hood hopped off.

He had to, I think, or he would have flown off. I thought then that Ford really would have driven off with him still on the

hood.

I was shaking as I scooted over to the other side of the cab, and set the grocery bag in the center, and we drove on.

"What's going on, Ford?" I asked, which was really a dumb question, because I knew Ford didn't have any

more answers that I did.

"I don't know," he said, and he sounded weird, too.

Another couple of minutes and I felt the shaking getting worse. I looked over at Ford, and said, "I'm scared."

Ford looked at me, and then he sighed, and pulled over, just on the outskirts of Murphys. He set the bag of groceries

on the floor, and tugged at my wrist.

"Comere," he said, and I scooted over to sit next to him. He put his arm around my shoulders,

and hugged me.

"Don't be upset, Har," he said. "It's alright."

"I was so scared, though," I said. "Weren't you scared?"

"To death," Ford admitted.

"You didn't show it," I told him, in admiration.

"I just reacted, I guess."

"You were brave," I said, looking at him in a new light.

"Not so much brave as just that I wanted to get you out of there," he said.

He hugged me again. "We better leave the bowling for another day."

"Okay," I said, and scooted back over to my side.

As we drove, I felt my shaking subside slowly, though I still felt frightened by what had happened.

"I've never seen them before, have you?" I asked.

"I think I might have seen the one that didn't say anything a time or two."

"Why did they do that, do you think?"

"I don't know," Ford said.

"Why to us? And why today?" I persisted. "They're the ones that the letter was about, I'll bet. The ones that

said trouble is coming to us."

"They could have just been guys that were feeling their oats," Ford said. "It might not have anything to do

with the letter."

"How did they know my name, though?" I asked, in worry.

"Try to forget about it."

"Are you serious?" I asked him. "That's impossible."

As we were pulling into the driveway at home, I said, "Hannah's going to flip."

"Yeah," Ford said, sounding worried.

"I'm going to go pick pears," I said, as he parked, and I got out.

Ford reached for the bag of groceries. "I'll see you later," he said.

We went our separate ways. I went to pick the pears that were left, and I saw Ford go inside the house, and

then come back out, heading towards the fields behind the barn.

I kept at my pear picking, my thoughts jumping all around about what had happened in town.

7


	16. Gone missing

I picked pears until late in the afternoon, when Hannah came to the front porch steps and called to me.

"Come in out of the heat for awhile," she called.

"I'm almost done," I called back.

I picked another bucket after that. The more pears I picked, the more I thought about Doc G. He would have had

something to say about this whole mess, some sage advice on how to handle it. I felt my chest clutch in pain at the loss

of him. What had he been to me? Friend? Yes, for sure. And mentor. And a little bit of father thrown into the mix.

Fat Clarence had been laying there, in the shade of the trees, while I'd been busy picking.

"Want to go to the cemetery?" I asked him. "Want to go to Doc's grave?"

Clarence thumped his tail in understanding. He knew the word, 'Doc'.

"Okay. We'll go," I told him. "I'm going to get these pears all picked first, though. So I don't have to do

it again tomorrow."

I moved the ladder that was propped against the tree where Guthrie had left it, and struggled with it,

to place it against another tree.

I was on the third rung from the top, reaching into the tall limbs, picking pears as swiftly as I could, when I heard someone say my

name, and turned to see Adam walking toward me.

"Hi," I greeted him.

He placed a hand on the ladder, as if to steady it. "You know I don't like you up on this thing."

"I'm being careful," I told him, pushing my hair back from where it had escaped the braid.

"You've done enough for today. Come on down," he said.

I lifted the half-full bucket from where it was hooked over the top of the ladder, and lowered it down to him.

He took it and set it on the ground, and then stood there, bracing the ladder as I came down.

"Don't get on there anymore, you hear me?" he said.

"Okay," I said.

He paused, looking down at me. "Scary time in town today, huh?"

"Yeah," I said.

He brushed my hair back and I said, "Ford was really great, though. He handled it just right."

"I'm glad about that," he said, just looking at me.

"I was thinking I'd go to the cemetery for awhile," I said. "Take Clarence with me, and make sure

there's no weeds around Doc G's grave."

Adam nodded. "Ask one of the boys to go with you," he said then.

"Even to the cemetery?" I asked him, incredulously.

"Yeah," he said quietly, and gave my cheek a pat before he turned to walk away.

Daniel went with me to the cemetery, and he helped me pull the weeds that had grown around Doc G's stone, and

then he went back to sit in his truck, giving me a few minutes with Clarence, and my thoughts of Doc G.

7

For a couple of days, things were relatively quiet. There were no weird phone calls, with threats or breathy silence on the

other end. There were no letters, and when Daniel and Crane went to town for supplies, they came home to report that

nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and they'd seen no strangers.

I began to hope that the nonsense was past. Though the mystery of the blood, and the shots that Adam and I had

heard while we were camping were still unanswered, I was ready for some normalcy. And I knew that everybody

else in the family felt the same.

7

Then it began again. Though slowly. There was another call. Where nobody answered. Evan slammed

the phone down.

Then an entire section of our fence was flattened to the ground, smashed and obviously driven over by

large vehicles. Luckily, none of our cattle were able to escape since they'd been moved closer to the house already.

The sheriff was called, yet again, and he drove with my brothers up to look at the fence before the repairs

were begun. The tire tracks going in and out were photographed, and measured and all of that. I got to ride along,

squeezed in between Evan and Adam in the back of the Jeep, while Brian drove and Hal sat up front beside him.

I found the whole investigative thing interesting, watching him do all the measuring, and then hearing him talk about

what sort of tire tracks they were. When Hal crouched down near the tracks, and said, "See here?", then Evan, Brian and

Adam all crouched down, too, to examine where he was pointing.

"It's a big vehicle," Hal was saying, and I crowded closer, leaning on Evan's shoulder so I could lean over

and see too.

"How big?" Brian was asking. "Are you saying the size of a semi-truck?"

"Yeah. See the distance between?" Hal said, gesturing.

They all stayed like that for a full minute or two, until they started standing up again.

"Cattle rustling?" Evan asked.

"Nobody's missing any cattle," Hal said. "Least ways no reports that I've heard of. You all found all yours, didn't you?"

"We did," Adam said. "No foul play causing ours to disappear like they did. Just wandering."

"So not cattle rustling," Brian said, in thought.

"Doesn't appear so," Hal said. He measured a couple more tracks and then they stood there, talking for a few minutes.

Hal went on to tell them that though a deputy had been nearby the lumberyard on Saturday at two o'clock, they

hadn't seen Seth.

"He spotted the deputy's car, most likely," Hal went on. "And then cleared out. If it was him at all," he added.

They discussed what had happened in town with Ford and I earlier in the week.

"Hmm. Hmm. Hmm," Hal said, looking concerned. To me, he said, "And you'd never seen them before?"

"No," I said. "But Ford said he thought he might have seen one of them before."

We drove back to the house, and Hal declined the offer to come inside for coffee. He left, saying he would

stay in touch, and to call about any other problems.

7

Repairing of that large stretch of fence began that afternoon, and took the majority of two days. Everybody was called

on to help, except for Clare and Hannah, who stayed home with the baby, and Crane, who was the 'home-tender' as Hannah

called him. Whoever it was that stayed close by the house got the title.

It was the afternoon of the second day of repair, and everybody was hot and tired, and tempers were frayed. We had the

predictable injuries of barb wire cuts and sore muscles.

"Dibs on the bathtub when we get home," Guthrie announced to the group as a whole.

"No baths," Evan argued. "Five minute showers."

"I'm gonna soak in a hot bath," Guthrie insisted.

"Not if I get there ahead of you," Evan told him.

As we rode into our pasture near to the house, Jethro Bodine ran out to greet us, while Gus, older and slower,

walked more sedately.

From the spot where we all dismounted, and began to unsaddle our horses, I could see Fat Clarence on the porch,

sleeping undisturbed. I began to unsaddle Petra, hooking the stirrup over the saddle horn to uncinch it. I kept looking

around, expecting Warrior to come bounding up to greet us, too. He was always first, usually well ahead of Jethro Bodine.

Not today, though.

"What's wrong?" Brian asked me, walking past carrying his own saddle, and seeing me shade my eyes, looking all around.

"Just looking for Warrior," I said.

"He's around somewhere," Brian said, walking on past.

But, even when we were all done putting up our tack, and replacing the fencing supplies, Warrior still hadn't come

bouncing up.

Going inside, up the front steps, my brothers were all discussing, among other things, how hungry they were, and

how good a cold beer was going to taste. I paused in the middle of the yard, not following them.

Adam half-turned on the bottom step of the porch. "Come on in, sugar. Get yourself a snack. "

"I thought I'd look around for Warrior," I told him.

"In a bit. Come on and get something to eat first," he insisted.

I hesitated a moment longer, and then I sighed, and went into the house. I sat at the table with everybody else,

while we all ate sandwiches and fruit, and apple pie, and my brothers drank their cold beers.

I wasted no time after finishing my ham sandwich, and glass of milk. I stood up quickly. Too quickly, I guessed, because

I felt sort of dizzy for a minute. I stood, trying to still the room from spinning. And doing my best to keep from

letting anyone else notice.

Too late. Across the table, Crane looked at me.

"What's wrong?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "Nothing," I said.

"Sure?" he asked.

"Yeah. I just stood up too quick," I said, and smiled at him so he wouldn't worry and keep asking me about it.

By now Hannah had overheard us, and noticed. "You were out in the sun too long," she surmised.

"No. I'm fine," I said, and went out the back door before either of them could say anymore.

I hunted around the house, and behind all the out-buildings and barns, looking for Warrior, and calling his

name. Jethro Bodine came with me, staying beside me. I went out into the pasture, thinking that he might have

gone there to chase after the cattle. And later, while I was relieved that he hadn't been guilty of chasing our cattle, I

was still worried about where he'd gotten to.

Guthrie came out to meet me, and he went in other directions, helping me look.

Meeting up again, a half hour or so later, with no luck between us, Guthrie said, "He'll be along."

"He's always right around here though," I said.

It was getting close to dusk by now, and Adam came walking across the yard to Guthrie and I.

"No luck, huh?" he asked us, sounding regretful.

"No," I said.

"Your turn for the shower, Guthrie," Adam said. I realized then that Guthrie, even after his previous announcements, had

been out helping me look for Warrior instead of getting into the bathtub to soak his sore muscles.

"Thanks for helping me look, Guth," I told him.

"It's okay," Guthrie said. "He's just out hunting rabbits somewhere."

I nodded, but I didn't really believe that was true.

It occurred to me suddenly a couple of places that I hadn't searched.

"I'm gonna go look by the smokehouse," I told Adam, and would have stepped away.

"Let's leave it till morning," Adam said, and I paused, looking up at him. "It's been a long day. You need to get

a shower and some more food, and then get to bed."

"Yeah, but he should be back from wherever he went by now," I protested.

"He'll be along," Adam said. "By morning he'll likely be scratching on the back door, wanting some pancakes."

"Okay," I said, still reluctant to give up for the night.

"Come on," he said, and I followed him up the stairs and inside.

7

I took my shower, and then went downstairs again, finding the kitchen full of McFaddens.

There was a disagreement going on in the kitchen between Evan and Ford about Ford's upcoming job

at the print shop.

"All I'm saying is, those same guys are likely to be around town, and lookin' to cause trouble for you," Evan

pointed out.

"It'll be fine," Ford said quietly, going to the refrigerator to pull out the jug of milk.

"They'll be looking to kick your ass," Evan persisted.

I looked at Adam and Brian, but, while they were both obviously listening and paying attention to the conversation,

neither one of them spoke out.

"I can take care of myself," Ford said.

"Three against one? Those odds are bad, any way that you look at it," Evan said.

Ford pulled himself a glass of milk, silent. Evan lifted his hands as if to say 'what can I do?'

"Your brother's just tryin' to look out for you," Adam said, laying a hand on Ford's shoulder.

"I know that. And I appreciate it," Ford said.

I took the jug of milk from Ford's hand, and went to pour myself a glass, too. I took some crackers out of

the cabinet and munched on them, drinking my milk. After that, I set my half-empty glass on the counter, and went

thru the mudroom, opening the screen door and looking out. I could hear the barking of a dog, some distance away, from the

sound the it. I took one of the flashlights from the top shelf of the mudroom, and stepped outside, letting the screen door close behind

me. I was walking across the yard, the grass cool on my bare feet, shining the flashlight all around. Jethro Bodine and Gus both

came from the shadows to me. Fat Clarence, I knew, was asleep inside on the rug by the front door.

"Where's Warrior?" I asked Gus and Jethro, reaching out to scratch Gus's ear. "Where is he, huh?"

I was some distance from the house when I saw a larger light coming towards me, and I turned to shine my

flashlight over the person carrying that lantern.

"What are you doin' out here?" Brian asked me, sounding gruff.

"I thought I heard something," I said.

"Something like what?" he asked.

"A dog barking. From a ways off."

"Harlie," Brian said, with a sigh.

"Brian, something's wrong," I told him. "I know it."

"We'll get an early start in the mornin'. First thing. Alright?" he told me.

"What if he's caught in a trap or something?" I said.

I heard Brian sigh again, and then, though I couldn't make out the expression on his face in the darkness, I knew

he was getting impatient with me. I was ready for him to order me inside the house, when he lowered the lantern

to shine onto my bare feet.

"Get your boots," he said. "We can't go hunting for a wayward dog with you barefooted."

7


	17. Dark hike

When Brian said that about me going to put on my boots to hunt for Warrior, I hugged him so tightly that he

groaned. "Thanks, Bri!" I said, squeezing him.

"If we're goin', then let's get going," Brian said, loosening my arms from around his waist.

I ran back inside to pull on my boots, left by the front door, and when I came back to the kitchen, Brian was there,

pulling another lantern down from the top of the china buffet. I heard Hannah worrying, and Adam saying,

"It's alright to tell her no sometimes, Brian."

Well, I didn't really appreciate that! But I kept still, and Brian said, "We're just gonna take a little look-see. We won't be

gone long."

Evan came back into the kitchen, carrying Brian's rifle from the gun cabinet, and handed it to him. And we were off,

heading in the direction of the faint dog barking.

Before we'd walked long, we were in ankle deep, and then nearly knee deep, grass. It was sort of eirie walking

along that way, in the dark with only the lantern light leading the way. We could still hear the yapping, faint at first,

and then a bit louder.

We walked until we were near to the tree house, and then Brian paused, listening. The barking was louder here.

"You alright to walk a little further?" he asked me, sort of quietly. I heard something in his voice, and I

could sense that he wanted to continue. Whether from curiousity or something else, I wasn't sure.

"Yes," I told him. "I can walk further."

"Okay," he said, and we set off again.

After awhile, I had lost my certainty of where we were at exactly, and I was glad Brian knew where

he was going. Once he paused, and said, "Hear it now?"

I listened carefully, and heard the barking. "Yes. Do you?"

"Yeah. Getting closer."

I'd thought that the barking sounded further away, not closer. But I didn't argue. I figured Brian knew better, on something

like this, than I did.

"I think it's Warrior," I said.

"It might not be him," Brian told me, in warning. "Could be a neighbor's dog, or a stray. Don't get your hopes up."

"Alright," I said, but I couldn't help my feeling that it was Warrior.

I don't know how much longer it was that we walked. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, and then

there was the roaring of a truck's engine, and Brian stopped walking, holding out a hand to pause me.

"Turn off your lantern," he said, and I did, as he did the same with the one he carried. We were instantly

plunged into total darkness, but could still hear the roar of a truck's motor. It sounded like it was going up and down

hills, from the way the motor was being gunned.

"How close it that?" I asked Brian.

"Real close," he said. "Get down."

I went to my knees in the tall grass, and Brian crouched down, too, beside me.

"Is it on our property?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"What are they doing, do you think?" I asked, feeling my heart pounding.

"Something they shouldn't be doing," he said. "Stay down now."

So the two of us hunkered down, there in the grass, listening and then watching as the headlights of a vehicle shined

toward us, just for a moment, and then away again.

And then there was the sound of another type of engine, like a four-wheeler. And sure enough, as Brian and I knelt there

in that tall grass, the smell of the earth rising, several four-wheelers came closer, and then

wheeled the other way. Then the sound of the four-wheeler motors idling, and more dog barking.

Close enough that we could hear them shouting, "Where's that stupid dog!"

"Shoot the bastard!" another man's voice shouted.

"No," I said, alarmed, and Brian shushed me.

There was more cussing and then the sound of a dog yelping. "I kicked the shit outta him!" one of them said, sounding

triumphant, and then there was laughter.

Then a scream of pain. "Damn dog just bit me on the arm!"

And then, more yelping, and the sound of a gunshot. I swallowed the shout of fear that nearly came out, and felt

Brian's hand gripping the back of my pajama top tightly.

The four-wheelers roared off, and still we sat there. My heart felt as though it was going to thump right thru

my chest.

"They're gone," I said.

"Stay still," Brian told me. "I want to make sure of that."

Finally, after what seemed like an interminable time of just waiting, Brian stood up. I stood up beside him, and

very quietly, every few moments, you could hear the dog giving a whine of pain.

"Call to him," Brian said.

"You mean call his name?" I asked.

"Yeah. Just call him, see if we can tell if it's him," Brian said.

So I called Warrior's name. Once. And then again. And the yelp became a weak bark of recognition.

"It's him!" I said.

"Turn your lantern back on," Brian told me, and after we'd both done that, we began walking towards the

area that the four-wheelers had been in just a few minutes before.

In the lantern light, I could make out the shape of a medium-sized dog. A mutt, by definition, but not to me.

I began to rush past Brian to get to Warrior.

"Easy now," Brian said, stopping me with another one of those grabs of the back of my pajama top.

"But it's him!" I protested.

"Alright. But you don't go rushing up to a dog that's hurt and in pain. Even knowing you, he's likely to bite," Brian warned.

"He wouldn't bite me," I said, but I obeyed, waiting until Brian set his lantern on the ground a few feet away

from where the dog lay.

And then he said, "Keep talking to him," as he walked closer.

So I did. I told Warrior that would be fine, that he was a brave, brave dog, that Fat Clarence was waiting

for him at home. All sorts of silly things like that, that only another dog-lover would understand.

Approaching him slowly, Brian crouched down, reaching his hand out. I saw Warrior give his hand a

lick.

"Bring your lantern over," Brian said. "Keep talking to him."

So I knelt there in the dirt, beside my dog, and I talked to him some more, as Brian peered over him in the

lantern light.

"Where was he shot?" I asked. "Do you see it?"

"I'm not seeing it. But it's hard to tell in this light. There's some blood around his neck. Let's see if he

can stand," Brian said.

Brian half-lifted Warrior, and I supported him with my arm under his belly. I could feel the stickiness of

blood there. Whether from another injury there, or blood that had run from his neck down, I wasn't sure.

Either too weak, or in too much pain to stand unassisted, Warrior sank to his haunches when we'd let go. Still whining

in a pitiful way.

"I'll have to carry him," Brian said. "Grab both the lanterns. And you'll have to carry the rifle."

As I did that, he hoisted Warrior up to carry him. It was a long, slow walk back. I tried to keep the light

shining directly in Brian's walking path, so he wouldn't stumble and fall. A couple of times he stopped,

and when I asked him if he was alright, he said, "Yeah. Just resting a minute. Dog's heavier than he looks."

Finally, we were in sight of the house. Still a good distance away. All lit up in welcome.

Brian paused then. "Alright, peach," he said. "Run on up and get the Jeep. I think the keys are still in it. We'll

drive him the rest of the way up. Be easier on him and on me." He lowered Warrior to the ground.

"I'll stay here with him, Bri. Can I, please?" I asked pleadingly.

"Alright. Keep your lantern where I can see, so I don't run over you and the dog in the dark," he told me.

He took the other lantern from me, and then the rifle.

"I'm gonna fire a shot in the air when I get a little closer to the house," he told me. "Let the family know we're back,

so they can get a spot ready to look at him, get some supplies out and such. So don't be scared when you hear it."

"Okay," I said, kneeling beside Warrior.

Brian took off then, and I kept petting Warrior gently, talking to him about all sorts of things. Things that would sound

silly to anyone else who might have overheard. Warrior had quit whimpering. He was quiet. Which was scarier to me than

the noise he'd been making. I laid down in the grass beside him, my hand resting on his thigh.

A shot rang out, and from where I lay at, I could hear yelling from the house, though I couldn't make out what

they were saying. Eventually I heard the motor of the old Jeep start up, and a few minutes later it was coming closer.

"Hang on, buddy," I said. "Help's coming for you."

And then I stood up, picking up the lantern and waving it back and forth so we'd be easier to find.

7

When the Jeep pulled up close, I stood in front of Warrior, so he wouldn't be accidently ran over. Instead of

Brian, Crane was driving, and Ford was with him.

"We think he was shot," I said, even though I figured Brian had already told them.

I knelt and began to try to lift Warrior, but Crane stepped in. "I'll get him," he told me, and lifted the dog.

"Sit in the front," he told me. "Think you can hold him?"

"Yeah," I said, and hurriedly scrambled into the passenger seat.

Crane laid Warrior across my legs, and I folded my arms under him. Ford got in behind, and Crane got back

in the driver's seat, and put the Jeep in gear.

We were at the house within a matter of minutes, and nobody had said anything.

Crane pulled the Jeep around the back of the house, very near to the back door. Ford got out first, and leaned down,

lifting Warrior from my lap. Crane went to hold the door open, and Ford went in first, then me, and Crane followed.

The kitchen was astir with McFaddens, rallying around with individual jobs. The kitchen table had been shoved over against the far wall,

and one of the long folding tables had been set up, and covered with sheets.

There was hot water on the stove, the steam rising from it. There were towels lying on the table.

"Put him down there, Crane," Hannah said, pointing to the table.

After Crane had laid Warrior down, I went to stand next to his head, where Brian was leaning down, pushing

back the fur around his neck.

Between Brian, Hannah and I, we searched for a bullet wound.

"I'm not seeing it," Hannah said.

"Well, where did all the blood come from, then?" I asked in frustration.

A couple more moments, and then Brian said, "Here."

I leaned to look, and he said, "Somebody hold his mouth."

"He won't bite," I protested. "He's too weak."

Ford stepped around, and took Warrior's jaws in both hands, holding them shut to prevent him from biting.

I pushed back fur, matted with blood, as Brian kept probing at a spot on Warrior's side.

"Bullet just grazed him," he said. "No entry."

"How'd that happen?" Ford asked, from his spot at Warrior's head.

"Probably because the fools were too drunk to shoot straight," Brian said.

"Well, thank the Lord for that," Hannah said, and between us, we got Warrior's wound cleaned and doctored up, and lifted him so that

bandages could be wrapped around his belly.

"That's why there was blood on his stomach," I said. "But what about the blood on his neck, Bri?"

"Hold on and we'll look," Brian said.

I heard boots scraping on the floor behind us, and Adam said, "How's it going?"

"We're getting him fixed up," Hannah said, sounding positive.

"You can let him go, Ford," Brian said. "He's worn out."

Ford released his hold, and straightened up.

I pushed aside fur on Warrior's neck, searching for the cause of the bleeding there.

"Look, Brian," I said. "Is that another bullet graze?"

Brian looked, and said, "I don't think so, honey. Looks like just an abrasion to me."

"From the kicking?" I asked, horrified.

"Maybe so."

"What's this?" Adam asked.

"They were kicking him," I said. "Over and over. We heard them say so. The guy's boots must have

cut his skin."

Crane wrapped his arms around me from behind.

"He was trying to protect us," I said. "From whatever those guys were doing. He was trying to keep us safe."

"I'll call the vet," Adam said. "You think, Brian?"

"Yeah," Brian said in agreement. "Best to be sure."

I could hear Adam in the other room, talking on the phone.

"Did you call the sheriff already?" Hannah asked, gathering up the bloody towels.

"Yeah, when I came in," Brian told her.

"Harlie, go and get a shower," Hannah told me.

I shook my head. "Not yet."

"You'll feel better," she told me. "You can take a hot bath in our bathroom if you want to."

"No. I want to wait for Ivy," I said, and when Crane loosened his hold, I pulled a chair from the table and sat down

as close as I could to Warrior.

I sat there, petting Warrior and talking to him, not really paying much attention to what was going on around me. I knew

there was a lot of discussion about the men on our property, and about the sheriff, and all of that. But I just

focused on my dog, mostly.

When Ivy did arrive, she was quick, and confident in her examination and treatment of Warrior.

She gave him a shot of antibiotics and said, "It looks like you all did a good job. He's pretty worn out. It sounds

like he put up quite a fight."

"What about where they kicked him?" I asked. "Do you think he might have some internal injuries?"

"It doesn't seem as though he does," Ivy said. "He's tired, but his breathing isn't shallow."

"What can we do for him now?" Adam asked.

"You could fix up a soft bed for him. Try to get him to eat, and drink. Drinking is really important. And rest," Ivy told him. "That's about all you

can do."

"Carrying him the way I did, probably did him more harm, huh?" Brian asked.

"You didn't have much choice about that," Ivy said kindly.

"He bit one of the men," I told her.

"Good for him," Ivy said, with spirit, and for the first time all evening, I smiled.

"Yeah," I agreed.

7


	18. A dog in the kitchen, skunk on the phone

After Ivy had shared a cup of coffee, and then left, and the house began to settle down, at least somewhat, I was

told by Hannah in no uncertain terms to go and get cleaned up.

"You're covered with blood," she told me.

I gave a downward look at my pajamas, and noticed, for the first time, how blood-stained they really were. My arms and

hands had stains on them as well.

Once I was upstairs, I looked in the full-length mirror in her and Adam's bedroom, and saw how I really looked. There were

burrs sticking to my clothes, too, and my hair was nearly escaped from my braid. I sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling

my boots off, and then my socks. And then I just sat there, the full realization of what had happened that evening hitting me.

There was a light tap at the door, and Clare opened it, peeking inside.

"You alright?" she asked me.

"Uh huh. Just sitting a minute," I told her.

"I'll start your bath for you," she said, and went into the adjoining bathroom. I heard the faucet running, and after a couple

of minutes she stepped back out.

"The hot water's on, and I put out a washcloth and towel for you," she said. "Do you want some bubble bath put in?"

"No, thanks. I'm not going to be in that long. I want to sit with Warrior."

"He's sleeping. You soak for a bit," she insisted.

"Nurses' orders?" I asked her.

"Big sister orders," she said, and gave me a smile.

"Brian was so great tonight," I said, feeling emotional.

Clare came over and smoothed my unraveling braid away from my face. "I'm glad," she said.

"If he hadn't listened to me, and gone hunting for Warrior, he might have died out there before we found him," I said.

"He's a special guy," Clare said, still working my hair between her fingers.

"Is he getting cleaned up?" I asked. "He was pretty bloody, too."

"He wasn't, but I'll make sure that he does."

"Okay," I said, with a tired sigh.

"Go on. Into the bathtub," she said.

7

When I was out of the tub, scrubbed and in clean pajamas, I went back downstairs, leaving my hair down. In

the kitchen, I checked on Warrior again, and found that Crane had made a bed for him, against one of the kitchen walls,

with several blankets. There was a bowl of water sitting near his head.

The table he'd been examined on was cleared off now of the bloody sheets, and folded back into the corner.

I leaned down to look closer at Warrior, and he was sleeping. Crane was just finishing tucking another old blanket under

his hindquarters, which didn't even appear to faze Warrior.

"Thanks, Crane," I said. "For making his bed."

"You're welcome," he said, smiling at me.

"Did he drink any water?" I asked.

"Just a little."

"Okay." I sighed. "Where is everybody?"

"Stirring around, trying to figure out what's happening."

I nodded and sat down, cross-legged beside Warrior.

I sat there like that, with only one light on, the one over the kitchen sink. That made the kitchen seem

safe, though, and cozy. I knitted my fingers thru his fur gently, so as not to wake him.

After some time, the back door opened, and Adam and Brian and Ford came inside. They were talking, but quietly,

and when they saw me sitting there, Adam said, "How's he doing?"

"He's asleep," I said.

"Sleep's the best thing for him right now," Adam agreed.

"Want me to make some more coffee?" Ford asked.

"No. Not for me," Adam said. "I'm heading to bed." He paused beside me, and tapped the top of my head gently.

"You need to get up to bed, too, sugar."

"I want to sit with him for awhile," I said, looking up at Adam.

"Awhile," he said. "Not all night. Hear me?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Goodnight everybody," he said in a general way.

Brian and Ford both said goodnight, and after Adam had gone, Ford said, "What about you, Brian? Want some

more coffee?"

"No thanks, Beans," Brian said.

I turned to look at Brian in the half-darkness of the kitchen, pulling my knees up to my chin. He was still wearing

the same clothes, bloody and rumpled.

"Want me to sit with him for awhile?" Ford offered, crouching down beside me.

"No, it's alright."

"I'll come down and check on him later. I usually wake up at least a couple of times in the night," Ford said.

"Okay. Thanks, Fordie."

"Night," Ford said, then, and together, Brian and I both said, "Goodnight."

Left alone in the kitchen with Brian, I watched as he went to take a glass from the cabinet, and get a glass of water,

and then take two Tylenol from the bottle in the kitchen window.

"Do you have a headache?" I asked him, softly, so as not to wake Warrior up.

"Naw. My knee's acting up," he said, just as softly.

"Oh. Probably from carrying him all that way," I said.

"It's alright. It'll ease up after a bit."

"You should get cleaned up," I said then. "Get the blood washed off."

"I will."

I rested my chin on my knees. "Bri?"

"What?" he asked, setting the glass in the sink.

"If you hadn't listened to me, and gone hunting for him, he probably would have died."

"Well, he's a tough dog. He'll be back to causing trouble soon enough," Brian said.

The emotions of the entire evening were suddenly overwhelming. The worry of Warrior being missing, then the fear

of hearing those men, the panic at the gunshot, feeling helpless as they kicked my dog, all of that.

"Some brothers, or even fathers, wouldn't have cared," I said quietly. "They'd say that a dog could take care of their self. But you

didn't say that."

My voice cracked a little. I was trying not to cry.

Behind me, Brian pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, near enough that he could reach out and touch me.

"It's gonna be alright, peach," he said.

I twisted in the dim light to look up at him. "You're sort of like my hero," I said, really softly.

"Well, thank you," he said. "It's nice to be somebody's hero, once in awhile."

I leaned just enough to rest my cheek against his leg. After a few moments of quiet, he said,

"I'd better get cleaned up." He ran a hand over my back, and then stood up, scooting the chair back under

the table.

"Don't stay down here too long," he said.

"I won't."

I stood up, and gave him a tight hug. Neither one of us said anything. He kissed the top of my head, and went up the

back stairs.

I sat back down, and heard the click-click of dog toenails on the floor. Fat Clarence came from the living room, and

plopped his ample self down beside Warrior and I.

7

I did go to bed shortly after that, I just couldn't stay awake any longer. I left the one light on, the one over the sink, so

that Warrior wouldn't be in total darkness.

As for Clarence, I hefted him up and carried him up the stairs, and then set him down. He followed me to

my room, where I put him on my bed, and covered him with part of my quilt, the way that he liked.

I didn't wake up at all the rest of the night, not even once. The next morning, it was all the noise in the hallway

that woke me up. I put Clarence onto the floor, and went to the bathroom.

When I got downstairs, breakfast preparation was ongoing, under the supervision of Ford and Evan. Which I knew, without

looking or smelling, meant pancakes. That's all that Evan ever makes.

Warrior was still lying on his blanket bed, but had his head up, lapping at the water bowl.

I knelt beside him, telling him good morning and petting him.

"I checked on him in the night," Ford said, as he began setting the table. "He was still asleep."

"He was awake when I came down this morning," Evan added. "Just layin' there, looking around."

"He looks good," Crane commented.

Warrior gave a one-time thump of his tail in appreciation of Crane's compliment.

"Look at him, soaking up all the attention," Clare said.

"He's gonna get spoiled, and think he's meant to live the rest of his life here in the kitchen, being treated like

a dog of royalty," Daniel said.

There was a rapping on the front door, and Adam put his coffee cup down to go answer it.

At the sound of voices from the other room, Brian said, "Sounds like Hal," and he left the room, too.

"We should have a room here for Hal and his deputy," Evan said, flipping a pancake. "He's here often enough."

Brian and Adam reappeared, accompanied by the now-familiar sight of the sheriff, Hal Rhoades, and another deputy, one

that I hadn't seen before.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Hannah asked the men.

"No, ma'm, thank you," the deputy answered.

"I'll take some coffee though, if you have some," Hal spoke up.

I went to the cabinet, pulling down two extra cups, and poured coffee for both of the men, setting it in front of them.

Extra chairs were squeezed up to the table, and they sat down.

I took two pancakes, and poured some of the sugar-free syrup over the top, listening as the conversation turned

to the evening before.

"We've got a situation on our hands," Hal said, and I thought, 'what an understatement'!

"I didn't want to do more last night," Brian was saying. "Not with no cover, and Harlie with me, and all."

"You did right," Hal told him.

"About how many did you see, do you think?" the deputy asked, pulling out a small notebook from his uniform pocket.

Brian leaned forward and looked across Clare and Guthrie to me. "What do you think, peach? About three ATV's, weren't there?"

"Yes, three. But it seemed like more voices than three. They were yelling, and it just seemed as though there were more," I said.

"And the dog bit one of them, is that right?" Hal asked.

"Yes," I said. "He screamed. He said it was on his arm."

Hal cast a glance at Warrior over in the corner of the room. "The dog likely heard the commotion, and decided to check it out."

As everybody's attention was turned for the moment onto Warrior, he thumped his tail.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Hal said, "Well, let's go take a look," and he and the deputy, and Brian, Crane and

Evan got to their feet.

From listening to the rest of the conversation, I got the impression that they were actually going to 'track' where the ATV's had come and

gone from. This whole investigation thing was becoming intriguing. I followed the group to the living room, listening, as my brothers

gathered their rifles from the gun cabinet.

Encouraged by the fact that Brian hadn't put me off the night before, and the fact that he'd brought me into the

conversation with the sheriff at breakfast, asking my opinion, I went up beside him and said, "Can I come, Bri?"

Without missing a beat, Brian said, "No. You stay around here."

I thought that was unfair. It wasn't as though there would be any danger. Those guys were gone, and besides, there would

be at least five men there, with rifles.

But, stay home I did. Adam and Hannah left to go to town, to get groceries, since Adam didn't want her going alone, and Guthrie

rode along, to help tote all the groceries. Daniel switched places with Evan at the last minute, with Evan staying home and Daniel

going along with the group doing the investigating.

Which, in the end, left Clare and I, Evan and Ford at home. Clare went inside to take care of Isaac, and I stood there,

still disgruntled at being shafted from going with the group.

"I wanted to go," I said in complaint, and both Evan and Ford looked at me.

"You don't have to be involved in everything that goes on around here," Evan said.

"I didn't say that I did," I told him, insulted.

"Sometimes you act as though you do," Evan said, with the candor of an older brother setting a younger sibling straight.

"I do not," I protested.

Evan shook his head at me a little, and then walked off, toward the barn.

"Oooo!" I growled to his retreating back.

"What's your problem?" Ford asked.

"It's just so frustrating! We're like prisoners, almost, and it doesn't seem as though Hal and his deputies are doing

anything about it!"

"It takes time, Har," Ford said.

"Time, time, time," I mocked.

After that I went in and with resignation decided I'd better do the dishes. While I did them, and wiped the table and counters,

I talked to Warrior the whole time.

Clare came down at one point, looking for the baby Tylenol. "Isaac's fussy," she said. "I think it's his teeth."

"There's a new bottle in Hannah's bathroom, I think," I told her.

"Alright." She looked around at the nearly clean kitchen. "Are you alright down here? I thought I'd take the baby up

to Brian and I's room and put him down for a nap."

I told her it was alright, and after she was gone, I hand-fed Warrior a piece of bread dipped in milk.

As I was doing that, the phone began to ring, and I walked thru to the living room to answer.

At first there was no response, and I thought it must be another one of those phone calls we'd been getting lately, where

nobody answered.

Then, to my surprise, I heard, "Harlie?"

I knew that voice.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"To talk to you."

I was silent, and he said, "You didn't come."

"Come where?"

"To meet me Saturday, at the lumberyard," he said.

"I knew it was you," I said, really low.

"Yeah. Well, why didn't you come?" he asked then.

"Why would I?"

"Maybe because I have some information," he said.

For a moment, I was silent, not sure what to say.

"Are you afraid of me, Harlie?" he asked then.

"No," I said, too quickly.

"I think you are, a little bit," he said, and it sounded as though he was smiling.

I ignored that, feeling braver since I was on the phone and not physically near him.

"What do you have to tell me?" I demanded. "What is it that you know?"

"Aw, no," he said. "Not on the phone, Harlie."

I felt my temper rising up. "You're an ass," I told him.

"I never said that I wasn't."

Silence again.

"So, are you gonna meet me?" he asked.

"I know that was you that I saw at our cabin," I told him, ignoring his question.

There was a tension-filled silence, and then he said, "Aw, Harlie, was that you that told the sheriff that?"

I felt a chill go down my back. I should learn when to keep my mouth shut.

So I was silent.

"I wish you hadn't done that," he said.

"I'm hanging up now," I said.

"I'll be at the end of your driveway tonight. At ten-thirty. All those brothers of yours be in bed by then?"

"Don't come near here," I told him. "I mean it."

Behind me, I heard something. Somebody. I whirled around, face to face with both Ford and Evan, standing a few feet away. How I

didn't hear them coming, I didn't know.

I slammed the phone down, which later, looking back on it, I realized made them even more suspicious. I should

have faked a calm 'goodbye' and hung up the regular way.

"Who's that?" Evan demanded.

I felt flushed and nervous. I didn't answer at first, and he said again, "Harlie, who was it?"

I was still thinking, considering whether to tell it all or not, when Evan took hold of my arm.

"Answer me," he said, raising his voice.

"It was Seth," I admitted.

"What did he want?" Evan asked then, his hand tightening.

"Nothing-he wanted to talk to me-" I began.

And then Evan took hold of my shoulders, and shook me. Not hard enough to rattle my teeth or anything, but

still enough to unsettle me.

"Tell me what he said!"

"He wanted to know why I didn't meet him on Saturday. Ow, Ev, you're hurting me!"

Evan turned me loose, but stood there, his eyes flashing.

"That's not all. What else?"

"He says he's coming over here tonight."

"What for?" Ford asked, and he looked nearly as agitated as Evan.

"To talk!" I said, close to yelling. "Stop picking on me!"

"He's got the guts to come over here to see you?" Evan said, looking disbelieving. "He's just goin' to walk up to the

front door, and ask to see you, nice as you please?"

"No! He says he's coming to the end of the driveway!" I said.

Both of them stood there, staring, shocked, I guessed, speechless.

"I swear, Har, you're walkin' a thin line," Evan threatened.

"I didn't do anything!" I yelled. "He did all the talking, not me!"

We were so involved in our argument, if that's what it was, that Adam and Hannah were upon us before

we even heard.

"What the hell's going on?" Adam demanded, coming thru from the kitchen, Hannah behind him, looking worried.

"Ford and I are tryin' to find out what the hell's goin' on," Evan restated, still glaring at me.

"Evan's being ridiculous!" I said, and to my frustration and embarrassment, my eyes filled with tears.

"Harlie," Evan said, his tone another warning.

"Let's just cool down a minute here," Adam said. "What is it exactly that's going on that's got you both

so stirred up?"

I was silent, fuming, breathing hard.

"That kid-Seth, he called and talked to Harlie," Ford volunteered, standing with his hands in his pockets.

"Don't say it like that, Ford!" I said in irritation. "You're making it sound like I wanted to talk to him!"

"Well, how did it happen, sweetie?" Hannah asked calmly.

I shot her a grateful glance. "I answered and it was him, and he asked why I didn't meet him Saturday at the

lumberyard. I told him that I knew it was him that sent that letter. And then he said he had information for us.

I asked him what it was and he said he wouldn't tell me on the phone. He said he would be here tonight at the

end of the driveway. At ten-thirty."

Hannah and Adam exchanged a worried look, and then Adam looked at Evan and Ford.

"And if you heard the last part of the conversation, Evan Wayne, you know I told him that he'd best not

come near here!" I finished, raising my voice even higher.

"Alright," Evan said, in a regular tone of voice, "I overreacted. It just got me scared for you, that's all. I'm sorry."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, and swiped at my eyes. I looked at Evan and he did really look

sorry.

"Okay," I said, a little grudgingly.

"Alright, I'm glad that's all settled," Adam said, with a note of humor in his voice.

"What are we gonna do about dumbass, if he does have the nerve to show up over here tonight?" Ford asked.

"I'm sure we can arrange a little 'welcoming' party for him," Evan said. "It may not be the kind he wants, but

I bet we could give him one."

"Yeah," Ford said. "Maybe one with a little bang to it?"

I wasn't quite sure just what they were getting at, but Adam seemed to get it, because he half-smiled and said,

in a joking sort of way, "Now, fellas, that wouldn't be very nice at all, now would it?"

And then he winked at them and said, "Don't you boys get your fingers burned, you hear?"

7


	19. Cookies and Suspicion

I began to appeal to Ford and Evan as soon as possible, asking them both what they were planning at the end of the driveway,

should Seth have the nerve to actually show himself.

Ford just grinned at me, and said, "You'll see."

He and Evan were in the kitchen raiding the refrigerator, and I hitched myself up onto the kitchen counter to sit, watching

them.

"Tell me. Please?" I asked.

"Just a little joke," Ford said.

"Can I help, though?" I asked.

"Little girls need to be in bed," Evan said, in a way that I found maddening, even though he was joking with me.

"Man, there's no cookies," he complained then, lifting the lid from the cookie jar and peering inside.

"Guthrie's eaten everything in sight," Ford said, closing the refrigerator door.

By now Evan was perusing the cabinets. "Not even any store-bought cookies," he said, opening and closing the cabinet doors.

"I could make some," I said softly, in an off-hand way, picking at my cuticle as if it were of great interest. Out of the corner of my

eye, I could see that I had their attention.

"Some lemon bars," I went on. "And some oatmeal-raisin, probably," I added, naming their favorites.

Evan shut the last cabinet door. "That'll work," he said, sounding happy.

"Yeah," Ford agreed. "Sounds great, Har."

"If," I said, with a pause, "I get to be in on whatever you have planned for Seth tonight."

"Well, sure," Evan said, and then he grinned. "We were gonna let you anyway."

"Yeah," Ford said, in agreement, grinning too.

I blinked at both of them for a long few moments. "You didn't say that," I accused. "You acted like I couldn't!"

"We were just yanking your chain a little," Ford said.

"Besides," Evan said, walking to the door, and then pausing to look at me. "We knew if we worked it right, you'd make cookies."

He grinned at me again, and then went out the back door, letting the screen shut with a slam.

I looked at Ford. "I've been had," I said.

"Yep," he said, and went out the back door, too.

7

So I spent the afternoon making cookies of various shapes and flavors. Lemon bars for Ford, and oatmeal-raisin for Evan. Since I

hadn't made any for him for a long time, I also stirred up a batch of molasses ones for Adam. While I was mixing and measuring, I

kept up a running conversation with Warrior, who was watching me from his corner bed.

When everybody got back that had gone with the sheriff earlier, I had several interested brothers coming into the kitchen,

sniffing in appreciation.

"Something smells good," Crane said.

"Yeah," Daniel said, coming over and trying to scoop up one of the lemon bars that I had just taken out of the oven.

"Daniel, they're not even cool yet," I protested.

"It's fine," Daniel said, filling his mouth with the bar.

"Good grief," I said.

"Where's the no-bakes?" Daniel asked then, peering around the kitchen.

"I didn't make any no-bake ones," I told him.

"Well, why the heck not?" Daniel asked, pretending to be insulted. "You see how it works around here, huh, Brian? We don't

count for anything. She just caters to Ford and Evan."

"I see," Brian said, going along with the teasing.

"What's this?" Adam asked, coming closer and seeing the molasses cookies that I had cooling on the rack. "Molasses cookies?"

"Yeah," I said, and smiled at him, pushing my hair back from my face. It was hot in the kitchen with the oven on.

"Fantastic," Adam said, biting into one of the molasses cookies.

"Oh, ho," Daniel said. "Catering to Adam, too. How about that, Brian?"

"The insult continues," Brian said.

Those few minutes of light-hearted teasing were fun. Until the conversation turned serious and foreboding, dealing with

what they'd discovered while searching over our pastures with the sheriff and his deputy.

"Could they tell much?" I asked.

"Not an awful lot," Adam said, sounding regretful.

"So no leads yet?" I asked, disappointed.

"They left a lot of beer cans spread around, some trash," Brian said.

"That's it?" Evan asked.

"They've got a couple of theories, nothing definite," Adam said, going to the coffeepot and scooping coffee.

"I think a chimpanzee could do a better job of solving this than the sheriff's office is doing," I said, cutting up the lemon squares. I was struck

by how quickly the kitchen became quiet.

"What?" I asked, sort of flippantly.

For a long moment, nobody said anything at all. Adam looked as though he was going to say something, but then he

hesitated just a bit.

"You shouldn't say that, Harlie," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Things like this take time," he said then.

I looked away from his serious face, to Crane's disapproving one. I thought that Brian and Daniel looked slightly

amused by my chimpanzee reference.

I was encouraged enough by their slight smiles that I might have made another joking remark, but one more look at

Crane and I stopped, my words never forming.

"I'm just joking," I defended myself, and looked away from Crane.

7

That night long after the supper dishes were washed, and everybody was settling in for the evening, I watched as Evan, Guthrie and Ford

make preparations to "welcome" Seth, should he appear.

When ten o'clock came around, the four of us went to the end of the driveway, armed with lanterns and various other products. They stationed

themselves, and me, in three separate locations. Guthrie and Evan were across the road from our driveway, behind the trees, and Ford was on our

side of the road, but down a good ways.

Once I knew their plan, I suggested, (helpfully, I thought), that I should wait atop one of the big rocks by our road, so that Seth

would think I had really come to meet him.

This idea was quickly squashed by Evan and Ford, and so I found myself with Ford, sitting in the darkness, waiting.

It was after ten-thirty and there still had been so sign of an approaching vehicle. Then headlights appeared from a half-mile away.

"Remember," Evan called across the road to Ford, "Nothing until he actually stops, and we're sure it's him. We don't want to have the wrong

truck and give old man Northern down the road a heart attack as he's driving home with his nightly ice cream cone."

So we waited. The headlights came nearer, and the vehicle slowed down. A good sign, I thought, that it was Seth.

And, sure enough, the truck came to stop a good distance down the road, the door opening and closing, softly though. And then

the sound of walking on the gravel, towards the lantern "bait" that Guthrie had left sitting near the end of the driveway.

The bait was successful, because we all heard, "Harlie? That you?"

We were all silent, and the steps came a few feet closer. "Harlie?" Seth asked again, softly.

And then, when he was there, at the end of the driveway, and picking up our lantern, shining it around, the boys did their thing.

The banging and popping was so loud that I stuck my fingers in my ears. Aimed no where near Seth, but flung up the road and

into the opposite ditch, so they wouldn't hit him by accident, the banging was intense.

I could hear Seth yelling from the beginning, but couldn't make out what he was saying. There was the sound of running in between bangs and

then, when the fireworks had been thrown, there was quiet for just a few seconds, and then Seth, at the safety of his own truck,

yelled out, "Watch your backs, McFaddens!"

And then the sound of his truck motor starting, and he backed up there in the middle of the road, spun out, and headed towards Murphys again,

and I could Guthrie whooping it up and hollering at the success of their prank.

7

I was in town the next day with Brian while he bought feed, and ran a couple of other errands. I don't usually mind

being at home because I can always escape outside somewhere. But with them not wanting me to ride away from the house now alone, I

was ready for some different scenery. Even if was just the streets of Murphys.

We chugged into town in the old truck. Even being mechanically challenged, I could hear the intermittent starts and stops in the

motor.

"Sounds like a spark plug," Brian offered, letting his arm trail out in the sticky breeze. "Gonna have to check that out."

"Gosh, it's hot," I said.

"Almost July," Brian said. "Bound to be."

As we pulled into the city limits, I said, "Can I go to the library while you're getting the feed?"

"I guess so," he said. "Just wait for me out front when you're done, though."

"Okay," I agreed, but as Brian pulled up in front of our small town library, there was a big white sign hung on the front door.

It stated that the library was closed for the rest of the day due to illness.

"Darn it," I said, disappointed.

"Aren't you still readin' that big book? Pride and Predudice?" Brian asked me, as he pulled back out onto the street.

"Well, yeah," I said. "But I need something else."

So it was to the feed store we went, and I waited while he talked to some of the other men in the store, and then while he

paid for the feed, and began to load it. I waited, leaning against the side of the truck, as he began talking again, to some of the

same men he'd been talking to inside.

I sighed. It was hot. And I was thirsty. And bored.

I sidled over to Brian, and waited for a lapse in the conversation before I got his attention, and he looked at me and said, "What?"

"Can I go to Lori's?" I asked. "Just while you're talking?"

"We're gonna be leaving here in just a minute," he said.

So I waited. And it was more than a minute, I'll tell you that.

I tried again, as Brian went to the pop machine to get a bottle of pop. I followed him over to the old banged-up machine, with COKE on it

in giant letters. I watched as he put in the change and pulled out a bottle of Dr. Pepper.

"Want a bottle of pop?" he asked me.

"Yes. Thanks," I said, and he reached into his pocket to pull out some change, handing it to me.

He uncapped his own bottle of pop, and I said, "It's been a long minute."

Brian looked at me, and then as realization dawned he said, "What are you, five? With the attention span of a knat?"

That might have hurt my feelings, or made me mad, but I just shrugged it off.

"Okay, fine," I said with a sigh.

"Just get your pop and stop bein' a pain in my tail-feathers," he said, and headed back over to where the other two men

were leaning against our truck, still talking.

I pulled out a bottle of Tab and went to sit in one of the old wooden chairs that sit out front of the feed store. At least it was in the shade

somewhat. I was just people-watching, when I saw a familiar truck pull up at the hardware store up the street.

Kenny got out, and looked down in my direction. I lifted my hand to wave at him, and for the briefest moment he hesitated, and then

waved back. He seemed to be considering, standing there. Just what he was considering I wasn't sure of, but that's what it seemed to me.

Finally, he moved, and began to walk in my direction.

He was up near the sidewalk, when he said, "Hey, Har."

"Hi!" I said. It had been weeks since I had talked to Kenny, and to be honest, I was thrilled to see somebody else, somebody near my own

age to talk to.

"How have you been?" he asked me then, standing in front of my chair.

"Alright. How about you?"

"I'm doin' okay," he said.

"Sit down for awhile," I told him, gesturing to the other wooden chair, next to mine.

"I can't really," Kenny said, and his eyes flickered away from mine.

I realized then that he hadn't met my eyes even once.

"I'm runnin' some errands for my dad," he went on. "You know how it is." He shuffled from foot to foot.

"Sure," I said. I hesitated, studying him. "You haven't been over to our house in awhile," I said.

"Yeah," he said, and I swear that his face reddened. "I've been pretty busy."

"Guthrie's been wondering about you. He tried to call you a couple of times."

"Yeah. Well, I'll give him a call back. You tell him, okay?" he said.

"Okay," I said, and when Kenny reached up to tip his hat back on his forehead, I saw the bit of bandage sticking out

from under the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt. Even then, I wondered why he was wearing a long sleeved shirt on such a hot day.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"Huh?" he asked, looking startled.

"Your arm," I said, pointing. "What happened?"

Immediately Kenny lowered his arm with a jerk. "It's nothin'," he said. "Just a scrape."

"Oh," I said, still watching him. I've known Kenny since I was in first grade, and he was in second grade with Guthrie. There was

something peculiar about the way he was acting, something "off". Even though we'd only gone out on a couple of dates together,

I still felt like I knew him well.

I began to have a foreboding. A sense of unease.

I stood up, because it looked as though he was about to say his goodbyes and take off.

"How'd you cut your arm?" I asked.

His eyes flickered to mine and then away. "On some wire," he said. "Well, I'll see you, Harlie."

He stepped down off the sidewalk, and began to walk away. "Tell Guthrie hey for me."

I watched him walk away and he was nearly to his truck when I followed him.

"Kenny!" I called after him, and he turned to look back.

When I was standing near to him, I said, "We've had some trouble at our place the last couple of weeks."

Kenny didn't answer, he just looked at me, and I said, "Have you heard about it?"

"Yeah. I think I heard about it," he said, and I saw something pass over his face.

"It's pretty bad," I continued. "The sheriff's trying to figure it all out."

"Yeah? Well," he hesitated, "Like I said, I've gotta be going."

And then he was gone, getting into his truck so fast that he was hardly in the seat before he started the motor and pulled out.

I stood there watching him go, and then I heard Brian call to me. "Hey, peach! We're leaving."

I turned to walk back and climbed in the seat as Brian said his goodbyes to the other men.

We were headed out of town, and I was thinking my own thoughts, running my finger over the top of my pop bottle.

There was a nudge to my arm, and I turned to Brian.

"Huh?" I asked him.

"I asked you if Hannah said anything about us needing milk."

"Um, no. She didn't say anything to me about it," I told him.

After that I subsided into silence again, thinking.

"I guess that did turn into a pretty long minute, didn't it?" Brian asked me, and I knew he was sorry that he'd gotten

surly with me earlier.

"It's okay," I said.

"Saw you talkin' to Kenny," Brian went on.

"Yeah," I said, somberly.

"He after you to go to a movie with him or somethin'?" Brian asked.

"No."

"Well, what's wrong with the boy?" Brian said, as if astonished. "He's slipping."

"Would you let me go, anyway?" I asked him then. "You haven't been letting me go anywhere."

"Now, peach, I talked to you about that-" Brian began.

"I know. I wasn't complaining. I just-never mind," I said.

For a moment or two there was silence in the truck cab. "Besides," I said, "I don't want to go out with Kenny anyway."

"Yeah?" Brian asked, looking surprised at that. "How come?"

"I just don't." My stomach had begun to knot up after my conversation with Kenny and my thoughts were all over the place.

"He get out of line with you the last time you went out?" Brian demanded, in full big brother-mode.

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"Because if he did, you tell me and I'll straighten him out," Brian went on.

"He didn't do anything, Bri. He's always been nice."

"Okay."

After a few minutes had passed, I spoke up. We were near to home and I figured this was the best time.

"Can I tell you something? Without you thinking that I'm crazy?" I asked.

"I already know you're crazy anyway," Brian said.

"I'm serious," I told him.

"Alright," Brian said. "What is it?"

"It's about Kenny," I said.

He was looking at me expectantly. "What about Kenny?"

"He acted funny. Weird. Like he was nervous about something," I began.

"Talking to a pretty girl can do that to a fellow sometimes," Brian said.

"Thank you," I told him. "But that's not it. He's never acted like that before. And the thing is-" I hesitated. "He has a bandage on his

arm."

"So?" Brian asked.

"On his arm, Bri," I said pointedly, and waited.

7


	20. Amongst the aisles

Brian got the gist of my comment, because he gave me a long look, and then cautioned, "Now, peach, you can't be dreaming things up that

way."

"I'm not dreaming it up," I protested. "His arm really is hurt. He says from wire, but who's to say that's really the truth?"

Brian was silent while he concentrated on backing the truck up in front of the barn, in preparation for unloading the feed.

As he parked, and turned off the engine, he said, "Don't be running off. I want to talk to you."

I got out and after he'd lowered the tailgate, I scrambled up into the bed of the truck, and as he lifted the sacks of feed near the end,

I began pushing the second stack of feed off the top so it was easier for him to reach.

We were nearly finished when Guthrie and Ford came from the direction of the back of the house, both of them munching on a pear.

"Need some help?" Ford asked.

"We're practically done now," Brian said, sounding gruff. "Trust you two to show up at the finish."

Both the boys gave Brian easy grins, not concerned in the least with his show of irritation.

"Here, I'll finish," Guthrie told me, hopping up into the back with one easy motion, and hefting the sacks with ease.

"Lots of people in town?" Ford asked, in conversation.

I didn't answer right away, and Brian said, "Quite a few."

I thought about offering up the fact that I'd seen Kenny, but I didn't want to talk to Guthrie about it until I'd talked more

with Brian. I was hoping that Brian wouldn't say anything about it yet, and he didn't.

After the feed was unloaded, and stacked, I waited for Guthrie and Ford to go, so I could keep talking to Brian. It seemed that they

were in no hurry, however, and between them and various other things, I didn't have any opportunity to talk to Brian the rest of the

afternoon.

At supper, which consisted of spicy tacos, Hannah said that the following evening several of the neighboring families were

coming over to discuss the dislodged fences, and the other things that had been happening around our area.

"Don't be overdoing," Adam told her. "A cake or somethin' is fine."

"I won't overdo," she said, but we all knew that she would.

Later that evening Nancy came over, with news of what she'd heard at work that day.

"The Stevens had some things stolen from their barns," she said. "While they were out of town visiting Mrs. Steven's mother."

"What things were taken?" Crane asked.

"Some tools. Shovels. Things like that," Nancy said.

"Nothing really expensive?" Hannah asked.

"Depends on what tools were taken," Adam told her. "Those can run into quite a bit of money."

"They said it looked as though some other things were moved around, to different spots," Nancy went on.

"What's the point of that?" Clare asked, looking confused.

"Playin' mind games, more than likely," Brian said.

"Well, at least we know that Warrior got some revenge on one of them," Guthrie said, with satisfaction.

At Guthrie's comment, I instinctively let my eyes drift towards Brian. He met my gaze with a serious one of his own, and I knew he

was thinking about what I'd said to him earlier in the day, about Kenny's arm.

Daniel and Ford started playing around on the piano, and before very long everybody was laughing, and some of the tension

of the last few days seemed to dissipate a bit.

"Come on and play a duet with me, Har," Ford called to me, from the piano bench, as Daniel got up to grab his guitar.

I might have done it, gone to sit beside Ford, and played along on some silly duet. But before I could decide whether to or not, Brian

said, "Not right now. We're gonna take a walk. Come on, peach."

I scrambled to my feet from where I'd been sitting on the floor beside Nancy.

At the door, Brian held the screen door open so that I could pass in front of him, and we went out onto the front porch. I followed his lead

as he went on down the steps, and across the yard.

I came up to walk beside him as he started down our long driveway.

I thought maybe Brian was thinking to discuss the whole Kenny thing with me, try to reason it out, and all of that. He surprised me

by beginning the conversation with a tone that was more in line with a lecture.

"There's no clear reason for you to suspect Kenny of anything," he said. "Is there?"

"Well, no," I admitted. "But I've never seen him act that way before. He's nothing like that ordinarily. You know that, Bri. He's full

of confidence, and he's always the one making everybody laugh-"

"I know," Brian interrupted. "How many years has Kenny been runnin' in and out of this house? Since he was eight? Or younger?"

"Yeah," I said.

"So because he acts a little squirrely one day, you're ready to brand him as a part of whatever's goin' on around here?" he asked.

"It was more than him acting squirrely," I protested.

"Alright. His arm, then. He's got a bandage on it. That's not proof of anything, either."

I subsided, feeling misunderstood. I was sorry now that I'd brought it up to Brian at all.

"So besides that, what else makes you think it?" Brian asked me.

I couldn't say that it was more of a feeling that I'd had, than anything else. Brian would dismiss that as nonsense, for sure.

"Never mind," I said.

"Now, don't go gettin' your feathers all ruffled, just because I'm trying to point some things out to you," he said.

"My feathers aren't ruffled," I said, with dignity. "Just forget I said anything."

Brian stopped walking, and turned to look at me, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I stopped, too, reluctantly, and

we looked at one another.

"This whole thing has everybody on edge," he said. "Maybe got us guessing at things. It's frustrating to not know what's goin'

on."

He was giving me an out. I could stop the conversation right now, and behave as though he'd gotten thru to me. So, that's what I did.

I was tired, and I didn't want to get into a fuss with Brian. And, besides, I wanted to puzzle about what had happened with Kenny some more

when I was by myself.

"Okay," I said.

"Okay, what?" he prompted.

"Okay. You have a point," I conceded.

Brian regarded me a moment or so longer, as if studying me. "I'm just sayin', don't let your mind run to things," he said.

"Okay," I said, again.

Still he kept his eyes on me, looking contemplative. "I'm not trying to just brush you off, peach. But ideas like this, they have a way of

taking hold, and then they get way bigger than they should."

Meaning, in Brian language, that he thought I was full of it, and needed to get my overactive imagination under control.

"Uh huh," I said.

"Why do I have the feeling that you're tuning me out right about now?" he asked.

"I heard what you said. You have a point," I told him.

Brian started walking again, and so I did, too. We were nearly back to the house when he spoke up again.

"I'd hate to think somethin' like that of Kenny," he said, sounding somber.

At that, I felt a twinge inside, myself. I didn't want to think it of Kenny, either. But, the fact remained that there had been something

'up' with Kenny that afternoon. Something bothering him, making him act totally unlike himself. I felt a prickle of guilt, then.

Brian did, indeed, have a point in this.

Maybe whatever had caused Kenny to act as he had was something totally unrelated to the weirdness and woes that were

happening.

I put myself to thinking then. Kenny had been interested in dating me, not all that long ago. Maybe I could get him to

ask me out again. Then I could ask him some questions, satisfy my own curiousity, and dismiss the feeling of unease I had.

I was so busy planning my next step that I didn't hear Brian until he'd said my name two times.

"Earth to Harlie," he prompted.

"What?" I asked, startled, looking up at him.

"I said, are we good here? You understand what I'm getting at?"

"Yes. We're good," I said.

Brian, the human lie detector, detected at that point. "Are you sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I felt my face turn warm, and wondered how in the world he could do that. So I added truthfully, without giving away

my plan, "Well, I still think there's something going on with Kenny, so I don't agree with you about that. But I do understand

what you're getting at."

"Fair enough," he said, and went inside.

Later, after I'd had a shower and was brushing my teeth, I heard Guthrie coming up the stairs, horsing around with Ford, both of

them laughing.

I stepped out of the bathroom, still brushing my teeth.

"Wait, Guth," I said. "I want to talk to you a minute."

So Guthrie paused, and Ford went on toward his bedroom, telling both of us goodnight.

"Night," Guthrie said.

"Goodnight, Ford," I said.

When Ford had gone, Guthrie said, "What's up?"

"I saw Kenny today," I said, casually. "When I was in town with Brian."

"You did?" Guthrie asked, sounding glad. "What was he doin'?"

"He said he was doing errands for his father. He said to tell you hi."

"Oh."

"I told him you'd tried to call him a couple times. He said he's been busy," I went on.

When Guthrie just nodded, and acted as if he was going to head on to his own room, I said,

"Let's see if we could have a party. Down at the creek. Invite a bunch of the kids."

Guthrie looked thoughtful. "A party, huh?"

"Yeah. It's been boring lately. At least it's something fun to do, right?"

"Yeah. I don't think there's a lot of extra money for snacks and soda and all that, though. I wouldn't wanna ask for all that," he said.

"You have some money, don't you?" I asked, knowing very well that he did. Guthrie is what is known as 'frugal'. He's not given to

spending money willy-nilly, so he usually has some tucked away.

"Yeah. I've got some."

"I've got a little, too," I said. "Actually, very little. But I could buy some Coke and stuff."

"It's okay with me," Guthrie said, in an off-hand way.

"Let's go ask right now," I said.

"What's the big rush?" he demanded. "We can ask tomorrow or whatever."

"No, now," I insisted.

"Well, go on," he said then. "I wanna take a shower."

"You come down and ask with me," I insisted, pulling on his arm.

"What do'ya need me for?" he protested, but he let me pull him along.

Downstairs, we found everybody, well, not everybody, but Brian and Clare and Adam and Hannah, in the kitchen, sitting around

the table, drinking coffee and talking.

"What's up?" Adam asked us, in a break in their conversation.

Guthrie had gone to the refrigerator, and begun sifting thru the shelves, so I was the one to speak up first.

"We were wondering, Guthrie and I, if we could have a party. Invite some of the kids over," I said.

"When were you thinking?" Hannah asked.

"Maybe this coming weekend?" I suggested.

They exchanged looks, well, not Clare really, but the other three.

"How many kids are we talkin' about?" Adam asked then.

I did a quick think in my head, looking at Guthrie. "Maybe fifteen or so? Right, Guth?"

Guthrie, his mouth full of a piece of pie that he held in his hand, nodded.

"Guthrie, get a plate," Hannah told him.

"This is okay," Guthrie told her, and took another bite of the piece of apple pie.

Adam looked at Brian and then Hannah. "Alright with you all?"

"I think it's fine," Hannah said. "It would be nice for the kids. They haven't gotten to do a lot lately."

"No alcohol," Brian said. Unnecessarily, I thought.

"No, Bri. No alcohol," I promised.

"You two'll have to help get the house cleaned up," Adam said. "Don't expect Hannah and Clare to do it all."

"We were thinking of down at the creek," I said.

The three of them exchanged another look between them.

I hastened to add on, "That way we're not messing up the house. And spilling stuff everywhere. And we could swim. Maybe

have a cookout."

"You could roast hot dogs, and marshmallows," Hannah suggested.

That's one of the nice things about Hannah. She's always, or nearly always, happy about Guthrie and I doing things with friends. Well, at least she

was, before she got worried about us because of all the trouble in town.

"Yeah," I agreed. "That would be good. So it's alright then? Saturday?"

"It's alright," Adam said.

The next day, I got some of the promised money from Guthrie, and planned to go to town and pick up food for the party.

When I was jingling my keys in my hand, waiting for Adam to give me permission to go alone, I was impatient.

"Wait for one of the boys," Adam told me.

"It's just to the grocery store," I complained.

"It was just to the store and all when those guys were all over Ford's truck, too," he reminded me.

"Well, I know, but-" I began.

"Harlie."

I stopped talking and looked at him. '

"That's the deal. Take it or leave it," he said.

"Alright," I said with a sigh.

"I think Ford's going into the print shop after awhile. You can ride along with him."

I ended up riding to town with Daniel and Evan instead of Ford. Ford had left already, and Daniel and Evan decided to go to

town, too, to stock up on beer and other things for the neighborhood get together that night. When Hannah had found out that

we were all heading to the grocery store, she handed me a last minute list of things for the evening.

The boys dropped me off in front of the grocery store, and went to buy the beer.

"We'll be right back," Daniel told me. "Don't wander off."

"Sure," I said. "There's so many places in Murphys to wander off to."

"Funny," Daniel told me, as Evan got out so I could slide out of the middle.

I went up and down the aisles at the store, picking up things for the party that Guthrie and I had planned, and then beginning on the

list that Hannah had given me.

I was trying to decide between two different brands of cooking spray when I felt a light touch on my elbow.

I turned to look up at Seth.

Startled, and admittedly, a little afraid, I just stared at him for a long moment.

"It's alright, Harlie," he said. "You don't have to look so scared."

To deny it would be stupid, I thought. I was, and he knew it. And even if he didn't really know it for sure, I wasn't going to

give him the satisfaction.

"Hey," he said, looking around. "Come outside and talk. Just for a minute." He gestured to the back doors of the grocery store, which stood

open, a cement block holding them to let the breeze in. "We can go out there."

"No."

Seth got pretty close to me, and said, his voice quiet, "The door's open. You can yell if you want. Come on."

I gave a look around, and Seth said, "I know you're with your brothers. I saw you all drive into town. I also know they're down at the

bar, buying beer. They'll be a few minutes. They don't have to know that you talked to me."

For the first time, I looked at him. I mean, really looked at him. He didn't look menacing. Not at all.

"Talk to me right here," I told him.

And then, before he could object, I said, "Why were you up at our cabin?"

"I needed a place to stay. My uncle kicked me out."

I gave him a disbelieving look. "There's lots of other places you could have stayed," I told him. "You're lying."

"It's the truth, Harlie. It's not as easy as you think to find someplace to crash at. Not with a reputation for bein' a

troublemaker. Nobody wants to have you in their house."

"If people think of you that way, it's because of your own actions," I told him.

"Preach, Harlie, preach," he told me, in a tone that suggested I was being pious.

I glared at him, and after a moment he smiled. "That wasn't nice what your brothers did the other night. With the firecrackers and

all."

"I told you not to come," I reminded him.

"You didn't have to tell them." And then he leaned in close to my ear and said, almost in a whisper, "Why did you tell 'em, pretty girl?"

I took a step back so he wouldn't be so close. I could feel his breath on my face.

"Huh?" he asked, still softly. "Why did you?"

"You tell me why you were really up at our cabin, and maybe I'll tell you why I told my brothers," I challenged him.

Seth seemed to turn serious. "The other guy up there, and me, we were supposed to be scouting out some stuff."

"Scouting out what stuff?" I asked.

He regarded me, looking troubled. "How do I know you're not gonna just run off and tell your family, or the sheriff?"

I stared at him, in horror. "You're part of what's happening? Was it you that shot my dog?"

I could feel myself getting really upset.

"I don't know anything about your dog," he said, looking puzzled. A couple of women pushed their carts past us, and we were both

quiet. When they'd gone to the next aisle, and couldn't overhear our conversation, Seth said again, "What's with your dog? Somebody shot

it?"

For a moment I was torn. He looked and sounded so believeable, as if he really was puzzled about Warrior. I found myself wanting to

believe him.

I clamped my lips tight, and refused to answer.

"Let's go outside," he said quietly. "I don't want anybody to overhear us."

He turned to walk out the open back door, as if there was no question that I would follow him.

I gave a look towards the front of the store. No sign of Evan or Daniel coming in yet. I hesitated, and then took the few steps

over to the open door. But I stood in the doorway stubbornly.

Seth made no attempt to coax me out any further. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"I don't know anything about your dog," he said again. "I haven't been near your place since the sheriff ran Tom off from the cabin."

"He said he didn't know you," I said.

Seth shrugged. "Well, he's my friend. He wasn't gonna sell me out."

"What were you doing up there?" I asked.

"Somebody wanted me and Tom to look at some fences. Things like that. And your cabin was the most secluded place."

"Who wanted you to look at fences?" I demanded. "And why?"

Seth went to sit on the bench beside the door, where the checkers sit when they take their smoke breaks.

"I don't know their names," he said. "They just wanted to know where some fences were, up by the state park."

"How can you not know their names?" I asked. "That's stupid."

"I didn't ask any questions. I never even saw them. We rode ATVs up and looked around. Tom told them where the fences were at.

They paid him in cash. He gave me my share. End of story."

"Well, why would they want to know about fences?" I asked.

"I told you, I don't know any of that," Seth said, snapping a little.

I blinked at him, considering going back inside the store.

"I'm sorry, Harlie," he said, quiet again, and I was so surprised that I let myself look at him. He looked sad. And sort of-beat down,

I guess was the word.

If he'd stopped talking then, I might have gone back inside. But he didn't. He stood up, and came over to stand in front of me. I was

still standing on a step, so with him being taller, we were nearly eye to eye now.

He reached down and took one of my hands in his. "I've made a lot of mistakes. Before I met you, and after, too. Even when I

was going out with Kristin, I was a real bastard. But now, I'm working at the lumberyard, and I'm back staying at my uncle's house

again. I'm trying to get my life right." He held my hand up a little, as if he was just looking at it.

"But I've always liked you," he went on. "Even when I was a royal screw-up, I always thought you were a nice girl."

I felt my breath catch a little.

"The sort of girl that a fellow like me needs," he added, and met my eyes.

I bit my lip, really nervous all of a sudden.

"I'm not even mad at your brothers for what they did. I mean, not really. I won't bother you, Harlie. I-" he hesitated, sounding

unsure. "Can I kiss you? Please?"

The fact that he would think I'd be willing was one thing! But on the other hand, he was asking, and in such a nice way, too.

"Sort of a goodbye?" he said. "When I see you around town, I won't try to talk to you or anything."

I didn't say anything. I didn't say that I was willing. But I didn't shriek or jerk away, either. I suddenly felt sorry for Seth. Very sorry.

I nodded. Just the merest nod, and then he was kissing me.

I hadn't been kissed in a really long time. Thinking back later, I thought it was Kenny that I had kissed last.

Anyway, Seth had improved his technique since he manhandled me in the downstairs school hallway last year. He wasn't rough, he

was gentle. And, if I had to admit it, bamboo shoots under my fingernails and all for torture, I'd have to admit that it was really enjoyable.

He pulled his head back and then said softly, "Thank you for that." He squeezed my hand and said, "I see Evan coming in the front

up there. I'll head out so he doesn't see me. Bye, Harlie."

And he was gone, ducking around the side of the building. I turned around and went back to my half-full grocery cart, pushing it

quickly up the next aisle.'

"Aren't you done?" Evan demanded, coming up behind me.

"Almost."

"What were you doin' outside?" he asked.

"I wasn't," I said, and then his forehead wrinkled.

"I was just at the door," I said, which was, after all, the truth.

We got up nearly to the checkout. "Where's Daniel?" I asked.

"Outside waitin'."

"You check out, okay?" I asked, and reached into my pocket, pulling out Guthrie's money, and the money that Hannah had given

me. "I need to get a drink."

7


	21. Vow of silence

I shoved the money into Evan's hand, and was gone, outside, before he could do more than mutter a protesting, "Hey-"

Outside, I walked up the sidewalk to the front of the hardware store, and p some change into the pop machine. I pulled out an orange

Fanta and popped the lid off the bottle.

When I turned around, I saw where Daniel had parked, across the street, and he was in conversation with a couple of other guys, one of whom I

recognized as a friend of his from high school.

He saw me, standing there by the pop machine, and he gave me a brief wave. I waved back, and took a long drink of my pop.

I was just starting across the street to Daniel's truck, when Evan came out of the grocery store, his arms full of bags, and one dangling

from his hand.

"Harlie! Comere," he ordered.

I sighed and went over to him.

"Take this one, quick," he said. "I'm about to drop it."

I took the bag that was hanging precariously from his fingertips, and we started walking across the street.

Evan was putting some of the bags in the back of the truck, and the milk up in the cab, so it wouldn't get so hot.

"What's the deal?" he demanded of me.

"What?" I asked.

"Takin' off and leaving me with all the groceries," he said.

"You managed okay," I said mildly, and he gave me an irritated glance.

"I needed a drink," I said, to appease him. "I was about to pass out from being so thirsty."

Again, with a look from him. "Hmmph," he said.

"Just expire right away," I said, pretending to fan myself like a Southern belle.

"You're no delicate little flower," he returned, but he didn't sound irritated any longer.

Just as Daniel was telling the other guys goodbye, and getting behind the wheel of the truck, I was sliding into the middle, moving

the jug of milk as I did so.

Evan got in after me, and we were off, heading out of town.

"How was the grocery store?" Daniel asked me.

"Exciting as always," I said lightly.

"No problems?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Who were you talkin' to?" Evan asked then.

I knew very well he meant me, and I felt a rush of panic that he'd seen Seth, but I tried to play it off.

"Daniel, Evan wants to know who you were talking to," I said, with humor.

"I mean you, and you know it," Evan said.

"Well, let's see," I said. "I think I might have said hello or how are you to Mrs. Perkins-"

"Quit bein' a smartass," Evan said.

"But it comes so naturally," I said, and crossed my eyes at him, hoping to divert him from the topic.

"Really, Har, come on," Evan said. "I could tell you were talkin' to somebody out back of the store."

I gave him a look, and then said, "The checkers take their breaks out there, you know."

There. That was the truth, and I hadn't lied, either. I just hadn't mentioned Seth. Let Evan think it was one of the girls

that worked there.

Evan exchanged a look across me with Daniel. There was silence in the cab for a few uncomfortable moments.

I looked from one to the other.

"What?!" I demanded in irritation.

"You're actin' strange," Evan said, studying me.

"If I am, it's because you guys act as though I'm serving time, and you're my wardens!" I said, feeling really angry. "I can't even

go to the grocery store without being interrogated about who I talked to!"

"Evan didn't mean it like that," Daniel said, sort of quietly.

"Yes, he did," I snapped, and crossed my arms, staring straight ahead.

"I was just asking," Evan said. "I thought I saw a guy out there with you."

I refused to look at him. What did he have, Superman vision or something? I was honestly, vastly angry right then.

"For you guy's information," I said, without looking at either of them, "I'm not six years old any longer. I'm allowed to speak

to people I see, even if it's just somebody from the grocery store!"

"Simmer down," Daniel said, and I thought he sounded a little amused at my tirade.

"Yeah. Good gravy," Evan said. "I didn't intend to start World War III."

"Get me a nun's habit, and put me in a monastery," I ranted on. "Then you won't have to worry about me. I'm sure

that it won't matter that we're not even Catholic!"

"Don't they have to take a vow of silence or somethin', Ev?" Daniel asked, his tone full of humor.

"I think so," Evan said, going along with the teasing.

"Well, then, that lets you out completely, squirt," Daniel said. "There's no way you could keep quiet. Especially when you're

mad."

I gave Daniel a furious look. Now things HAD gotten real. Even Daniel was making me angry!

I clamped my lips tight, and Daniel laughed. Evan was grinning, too, and I lost what was left of my sensibilities.

"Both of you, just SHUT it up!" I snapped.

For a long moment there was silence in the truck cab. You could have, as the saying goes, 'heard a pin drop'.

"There's no need for you to get hateful about it," Daniel said, his voice quiet, but curt. "We're just teasin' you a little bit."

I looked at him, and our eyes met, briefly, before he turned his attention back to the road ahead. Evan was looking out the window

now, stiff and unapproachable.

I was, I thought, in sudden regret, behaving badly. They had just been teasing. And Evan had only asked a couple of

questions. There was nothing unusual about that. Protective of me, and all of that.

"I'm sorry," I said, quietly. I meant it for both of them, but neither one said anything in response.

"I'm edgy, I guess," I said. "I shouldn't have said that." I looked at Evan. "Sorry for being so bitchy, Ev."

"Alright," Evan said.

I looked the other way towards Daniel. "I probably couldn't do the vow of silence thing," I said, trying to lighten up the

atmosphere.

"Probably not," Daniel said, but I couldn't tell if he was still mad or not.

The rest of the way home I was silent. They talked to each other, about basic things; a poker game that Daniel's friend was

setting up, when one of the cows might have her calf, stuff like that.

I was getting a headache. Whether from the heat, or too much sugar, I wasn't sure. I remembered, with regret, that at

breakfast I'd had pop tarts and a doughnut, instead of oatmeal or something better.

To top it off, I was feeling all mixed up inside about Seth, and the kiss that we'd shared. Now I was in the position of having

to hide something more from my brothers. I couldn't tell them I'd even talked to him, let alone kissed him.

He was the enemy, after all! There was no way he could redeem himself, ever, in their eyes. I wasn't so certain about him

redeeming himself in mine, either, but it was tempting to consider it.

If any one of them knew what had transpired today, though, they wouldn't stop to ask questions. They'd tar and feather Seth, run

him out of town on a rail, or a 20th century version of one of those things, anyway.

Daniel parked up close to the house, and Evan grabbed three of the grocery sacks, and got out, going into the house.

I picked up the other sack, and then dumped what was left of my orange soda on the ground. Leaving the bottle in the back of Daniel's truck,

I hooked my fingers over the handle of the milk jug.

Daniel reached into the bed of the truck for the beer, and we began to walk together.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked him, softly, feeling weepy and emotional.

"You mean because you're actin' like a brat?" he returned.

"I said I'm sorry!" I reminded him, pausing on the bottom step of the porch.

Daniel paused, too, looking at me somberly, his dark eyes intent. "Do I tell you to shut up?" he asked me then, surprising me.

"No," I said.

"Then don't say it to me," he said, his voice clipped. "Or to anybody else around here."

"Okay."

"Okay," he echoed, and went on up the steps, where he held the door open so I could pass in front of him.

7

Once I'd helped take the food and milk to the kitchen, I went up the back stairs without saying anything to anybody. I

went to my room and took off my sneakers, and changed from my jeans to shorts. I laid down on my bed, and even though it was

only the middle of the afternoon, I had no problem falling asleep for a nap.

When I woke up, I still had a headache. It was actually a little bit worse than before. I got up and went to the bathroom, taking

Tylenol from the bathroom medicine cabinet. I used my hand for water to swallow them with. The Dixie cup dispenser was empty again.

I went back into my room and laid back down on the bed. It was nice, just lying there, in the peace and quiet in my little room.

I think I might have dropped off to sleep again, except Guthrie popped his head into my room, around the door that I'd left half-open.

"Hey, Har," he greeted me. "Let's go fishin'."

"Not right now, Guth."

"How come?" Guthrie asked, coming on into my room, and biting into an apple.

"Headache," I said briefly.

"Oh," he said, looking concerned. "Need some Tylenol?"

"I took some."

"Want me to get Hannah for ya?" he offered.

"No. I don't want anybody fussing. I'm okay."

When Guthrie had gone, I felt a wave of guilt come over me. He would be so upset with me if he knew about my interaction with

Seth. He's had a hate thing for Seth from the very beginning. There was no way, absolutely none, that he would even begin to understand.

Since having Guthrie upset with me is one of the things in life that is most abhorant to me, well, I didn't want to go there.

I was curled up in my quilt, when I heard someone else at my half-open door. I turned my head.

"Hi," Clare said.

"Hi."

"Have a headache, huh?" she asked.

"I told Guthrie not to say anything," I groused.

Clare came over to stand beside my bed. "I brought you some peanut butter and crackers," she said, in reference to the plate

in her hand.

"Thanks." I scooted so I was sitting up, and Clare handed me the plate, before sitting down on my bed, too.

I munched on the snack and said, "I think I've messed my level up, eating junk food. And drinking pop."

"Well, start over fresh today," Clare said, in her non judgemental way.

I looked at her, feeling again, grateful that I'd met her that day over a year ago, in the club that Daniel was singing at.

"Is Ford home yet?" I asked.

"He wasn't yet."

"I hope he's alright," I fretted.

"I'm sure he is."

"Ford's so nice, he lets people run over him sometimes," I said.

"He didn't in town that day, did he? When those guys were harassing you two?"

"No. He didn't. But I still worry about him," I said.

Clare smiled a little. "You worry about the boys every bit as much as they worry about you."

"I guess."

"Can I ask you something?" I asked, after a couple of moments.

"Absolutely," she said, lying back on my bed, and propping her head on her elbow.

"Do you think that a guy who's basically always been a jerk, can change?"

"I think some guys can change."

"But not all?"

"No. Not all," she said.

"Like Justin?" I asked her, referring to the guy that she was dating before she married Brian.

"Justin is a little boy in a man's body," Clare said. "I don't know that there's any hope for him. Although, maybe he's done some

changing by now. I haven't talked to him since I met Brian."

"But some guys change, you think?" I persisted.

"Yes, I think so. Especially if they were basically a good guy to begin with."

I puzzled over that a minute. I wasn't sure that Seth had been a 'good guy' to begin with. I'd always known him to be in the 'jerk' type of class.

After a couple of moments, Clare asked, "Is it a particular guy that you're thinking about?"

I looked at her face and wished I could talk, really talk to her. And tell her what had happened. But the thing with Clare is, it's a little

complicated. I wouldn't tell her anything that could cause her to have to make a choice between keeping a confidence to me, or

going behind Brian's back about something.

"Well, yeah," I admitted.

Clare studied me for a long few moments. "Are you alright? I mean, I don't want to see you get into anything that you

shouldn't-"

"I won't," I told her.

"Alright," she said, apparently satisfied.

After that, we just talked about general things, funny stories from her work at the hospital, my friendship with Steven, things like that. By the time

it was getting close to supper, and after that the neighbors would be arriving to talk about all the chaos in our neighborhood.

I put on a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt when I went downstairs, and the house was already in a hubbub, with just sandwiches for

supper, and then a quick clean up for that, before people started to arrive.

I washed up the dishes, mostly by myself, because Guthrie kept horsing around with Crane, and Crane seemed to be in a really good mood.

I was doing some last minute wiping down of cabinets in the kitchen, when Brian came up behind me.

"Clare says you have a headache," he said.

"I did. It's gone," I told him.

"Too much junk food?" he asked, knowingly.

"Probably so."

"Talk to Guthrie yet?"

"Earlier I did. Why?" I asked.

"He says Kenny's coming with his parents tonight."

I was surprised by that, but I didn't say so. I just nodded, and folded the dishtowel. "That's good," I said.

"Maybe you'll get a chance to talk to him," Brian said. "Make you feel better about things."

"Maybe so," I said, not wanting to get into it again. Brian had his beliefs, and I had mine.

' "You alright?" he asked then, pausing to look at me more closely. "I mean, besides having a headache earlier, and Kenny coming. You

seem sort of 'off' about somethin'."

For a moment, and just for one, I wondered if Clare had told him about our conversation concerning the mystery guy. Then I felt low for even considering such a thing.

Brian was, in his own way, just as perceptive where I was concerned as any of my brothers.

"I'm okay," I said. "Having a headache always takes it out of me. I'll be better after I sleep tonight."

He nodded, and said no more.

And so, the evening began. It had been awhile since all the neighbors were over, like this. In between helping to serve coffee and

lemonade, and answering the typical questions from adults, (as in 'what grade will you be in this fall?' and 'are you keeping all these

brothers in line?'), I waited for Kenny and his parents to arrive.

It had been a long time since I'd seen Kenny's parents. Kenny had been one of those 'late in life' babies. His mom had been

somewhere in the realm of forty-two or so when he'd come along. His dad had been even older than that.

I was surprised by how much his parents had changed. Aged, really. His dad had lost a considerable amount of weight, and

looked gaunt, and ill.

Kenny's mom is a throwback to the Southern belle. Legitimately, actually. She came from Georgia when she married Kenny's father. She

still talks with an accent. She patted my cheek with affection when I opened the door to them.

"Harlie, dear," she said, sounding glad. "It's so good to see you. I was telling Kenneth just the other day that he needed

to bring you and Guthrie over for a meal soon."

"That sounds real nice," I said politely.

"I'll see to it," she said, and drifted on into the room, greeting people as a proper Southern belle would do.

Kenny, meanwhile, stood there, still on the porch just outside the front door. He looked uncomfortable, or so it seemed to me.

"Hi, Kenny," I said.

"Hey, Harlie."

"Come in," I told him, and he stepped inside.

"There's lots to eat," I said. "Pie and cake, and some other stuff."

"Guthrie around?" he asked then.

"He's around somewhere," I told him. "I think he said something about getting up a game of basketball with you and Ford."

Kenny looked so uncomfortable, as if at any moment he might bolt from the room, and run straight down the driveway.

"Come help me," I said, pulling him by the arm.

I led him thru the throng of people, to the kitchen, and motioned him to follow me down to the basement.

"Hannah needs another container for lemonade," I said, as an excuse. "Help me look for it."

"What's it look like?" he asked, still standing on the bottom step.

"It's silver, and oh, about this big," I said, holding my hands apart about two feet. For a few minutes, we sorted thru

stuff in the basement. I knew full well that the silver container was upstairs already, on the mud porch, where Hannah had put it

earlier when she discovered that it had a leak. It was the most believeable way that I thought I could get Kenny alone, and talking, without

rousing his suspicions.

Finally, after maybe about ten minutes or so, I said, "I don't see it down here."

"I don't either," he said.

"Oh, well," I said, and turned to look at him. "That's okay. It gives us a chance to talk for a minute."

Kenny looked panicked, and I sought for something to restore the casualness of the earlier few minutes.

"Your mom said she wants Guthrie and I to come over and eat sometime," I ventured.

"Yeah. Mom likes cookin' for people."

"Your mom's so nice," I said, and I meant it. I've always like Kenny's mother.

"Yeah," he said.

I hoisted myself up onto the dryer to sit. "How's your summer been?" I asked, trying another topic.

"Nothin' special," he said, and was silent.

"Ours has been pretty wild," I said. "Wondering what's going on, and all."

Kenny looked at me, but was quiet.

"Did you hear what happened to Adam and I?" I asked then.

He shook his head just the slightest bit.

"We were camping, and we started having gunshots fired right over our head."

To say that Kenny showed no response wouldn't be true. His gaze flickered over me, and then away. He went to lean against

one of the freezers. But it certainly wasn't the response that I would have expected.

"And then our fences were cut and ran over. And then Warrior got hurt," I went on. Waiting for him to show some sort

of emotion.

Kenny just regarded me steadily. He seemed to be more confident than he'd been a few minutes before.

"That's too bad. About your dog," he said.

I felt a sudden chill. Something was off.

"Yeah," I said.

And at that, Kenny came over to stand in front of the dryer, and laid a hand on each of my knees.

"My dad's sick," he said, really quietly. "Did you know that?"

"No-" I said. "I didn't know."

"Yeah. He's got cancer. Of the stomach."

"Oh. That's horrible. I'm sorry, Kenny," I said, and I meant it.

"He doesn't want a lot of people knowin' about it yet," he said. "So don't say anything, huh?"

"Okay."

Kenny leaned even closer, until we were practically nose to nose.

As close as we were, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. And that's when I knew. Kenny's courage was coming from

a bottle.

7


	22. Liquid courage

"He leaned even closer. And began to kiss my neck, and my face, but not my mouth. Maybe it was because I turned away before he

worked his way to my lips.

"You've been drinking," I said, and it wasn't a question.

"Yeah," he said, still nibbling on my ear. "And it's the only way to go."

I gave him a push away. Not a hard one. But a push just the same.

"Stop, Kenny," I said. I was suddenly tired of trying to lead him into conversation. I wanted to go back upstairs. Guthrie could have

the pleasure of Kenny's company the rest of the evening. I was done.

"How come?" he asked lazily. "I mean, you got me down here. So let's have some fun."

"No," I said firmly.

"You gonna yell for a brother?" he asked me then, grinning.

"No. I don't need to yell for any of them."

Kenny looked at me, with a measuring glance, and then he laughed, and stepped back a little, though he was still in my

"bubble" of body space.

"Okay, Harlie," he said, and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a flask. I'd never actually seen anybody do that before. Pull a drinking

flask out of their pocket like that. I've seen it in movies and all, but never like this.

He took off the top and tipped it up, taking a long swallow.

"Put that away," I told him.

In response, he leaned back in towards me, and held it close to my mouth. "Have a sip," he coaxed.

I stared at Kenny as if I'd never seen him before. Maybe I hadn't. Not really. This wasn't the Kenny I'd always known.

"No. Put it away," I told him again.

"Harlie? You down here?" came a call from the top of the basement stairs.

"It's Brian," I whispered, giving Kenny another shove.

"Yes, Bri!" I called out in answer.

Kenny just smiled, and put the flask back in his pocket. He took a couple of steps back from me, and before I could hop

down from my seat on the dryer, Brian had come halfway down the stairs, and was leaning over the railing, looking at both Kenny

and I.

In true big brother form, I saw Brian's eyes narrow a little, and he frowned. "What's goin' on?" he asked, coming down the rest of the way to the

bottom of the stairs.

"Harlie and me are just catchin' up on things," Kenny said, with a grin at Brian.

Brian looked from Kenny to me, and I could tell that he smelled a rat.

"Well, come on back up," he said, and then, instead of going on back up himself, he stepped aside so Kenny could pass

in front of him.

"Guess I'll go hunt Guthrie up," Kenny said, and went on.

I hopped down from the dryer, wiping my hands on my jeans. They were all sweaty all of a sudden. I went over to

the bottom step, where Brian was still standing.

"What was happening down here?" he asked me.

He'd know if I said that nothing had been happening, that I would be lying.

"I was talking to him. You know, like you said."

"And?" he asked.

"And, it didn't really get anywhere. He's still acting weird."

"More than weird," he said, and I knew what he was getting at. He knew that Kenny had been trying to make out with me.

"Yes," I said, and Brian's eyes flashed.

"It's okay, Bri," I said. "I know how to handle it."

"Oh, you do, huh?" he demanded.

I gave him a sudden hug around the waist. "Don't worry about me," I told him.

"Well, worrying about you is just part of my life. Like breathing," he said.

7

When Brian and I got back upstairs, Kenny and Guthrie had gone outside with Ford, and were playing around with the

basketball. I mixed among the crowd of neighbors again, getting the coffee pot and refilling cups.

I took the coffee pot over to Mr. Hess, who was standing and talking to Adam.

"Want a refill?" I asked, when they both stopped talking to look at me.

"No, thanks sugar," Adam said, but Mr. Hess held out his empty cup.

"I'll take some more, young lady," he told me, and as I refilled his cup he went on talking, "You're a good little waitress."

I smiled at him, and he said, "You must be pretty proud of this girl, Adam."

"I am. Real proud," Adam said, and gave me a slow smile.

"What are you planning to do after high school?" Mr. Hess asked me then.

"I'm thinking of veterinary school," I said.

"Well, that's fine, just fine," Mr. Hess said in his big booming voice. "Got some goals set, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," I said, wishing I could make my escape.

"So many of these kids today don't even try to make it thru high school," Mr. Hess droned on. "And here you have

a girl like Harlie that knows just what she wants to do and plans to do it."

"Well, I'm going to try, anyway," I said, a little embarrassed.

"I wish my Carleen was more like Harlie," Mr. Hess went on.

"Carleen's in college now, isn't she?" Adam asked.

"She is. She is," he verified. "But she's just drifting. No focus. Failing all her classes. Last time she was home, she laid around, wouldn't even

get out of the bed to help her mother fix a meal. I said to her, 'what will you have as your major?' and what does she say? She

says, 'It's all about having a good time, dad'."

He jiggled Adam's arm a bit. "How about that, Adam?"

Adam gave a brief nod. "Maybe she'll settle into it soon," he offered, in encouragement.

"I hold no hopes for that," Mr. Hess said. "You know Carleen. Never have been able to do a thing with that girl. She sasses her mother

something awful." He shook his head in resignation. "She's a high strung girl," he added.

The next few moments were quiet, and a bit awkward. At least that's how I felt. I looked at Adam, and if I could read his mind, I would have

bet that he was thinking that he could have Carleen straightened out in no time at all. McFadden style.

I saw Hannah carrying a tray with more cake plates on it, and I said, "I better go help Hannah," and turned away.

As I did, I could hear Mr. Hess telling Adam what a great little gal that I was. Even if it was a little embarrassing, I still thought it

wouldn't hurt to have someone point out that I was a stellar sort of teenager.

As the evening progressed, it got a little tense at times. Nobody liked what was going on, and folks were even frightened to the

point that they were installing guard dogs outside, and one family said they'd put one of those outdoor cameras up on the edge of their

property to try to view the culprits if they came around.

I gathered up paper plates and napkins, and emptied coffee cups, going to the kitchen, and running hot water in the sink. I washed

some of the cups, and then I went outside to watch the boys play basketball.

Steven had arrived late with his parents, and he hollered hello to me, as he dribbled across the concrete. Guthrie was playing in a pair

of sneakers that had seen better days, the shoelaces flapping.

I found one of our lawn chairs to sit in and watch them play. I studied Kenny while I sat there. He showed no signs of being

uncomfortable now. He was running and jumping and laughing just like the old Kenny. After awhile, though, I thought his laughter

was a little loud, over the top. He began to get more and more loud. I wondered that Ford and Guthrie didn't notice.

A few minutes later, Ford left the game to come to the hydrant, pulling the handle and leaning down to get a drink.

"That Kenny," he said, shaking his head a little.

I wasn't sure just what he meant, but I figured that he had noticed how Kenny was acting. Warrior wandered over slowly to where

I sat, and I hoisted him up onto my lap, being careful not to press on his bandaged spots.

"Good boy," I crooned, "Who's the bravest dog around?"

When the boys ended the game, and were heading towards the back door, talking about getting more cake and some lemonade,

I heard Kenny say with a laugh, "Lemonade with a twist, that's what you fellas need," and he pulled the flask out of his back pocket.

In a way I was sorry that he had, but in another I was glad, since now I wouldn't be the only one to know.

The boys stopped walking with a quick halt. Steven was a little wide-eyed, but Ford looked angry.

"Put that away," he ordered. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that it's smooooth," Kenny said, and laughed again, and then downed a drink from the flask.

I looked to Guthrie, and his face was set in a hard line, though he didn't look surprised.

"Damn, Kenny," he said. "Put it up. Are you crazy? Your folks are right inside."

"Are you kiddin'?" he scoffed. "My mama would never believe anything of her precious baby. 'Kenneth, dear, don't go

outside without your jacket', 'Kenneth, darlin', you need to be a Southern gentleman like your granddaddy'."

When he was repeating his mother's words to him, Kenny used a feminine voice with a heavy Southern drawl to mimic her.

"That's rude," I said, from my chair some twenty feet away.

"You think I'm rude, huh, Harlie?" Kenny asked, coming over closer to my chair.

"Yeah. I do," I said. "Your mom's nice. You shouldn't make fun of her that way."

As he neared my chair, Warrior raised his head, sniffed the air, and then began to growl.

"Warrior," I said, "Stop it."

He growled again, and then with a leap from my lap that defied the fact that he'd been recently injured, he went after Kenny.

It all happened so quickly, that afterward, it was almost as though it had been like a fast forward on the VCR. He lunged, and

Kenny hollered, and Warrior growled. I jumped up and tried to grab Warrior's collar, but Ford was quicker, and he hooked his fingers

thru the collar, and pulled Warrior back with a sharp jerk.

He walked across the yard, pulling the protesting Warrior and deposited the dog in the cab of Daniel's truck, which happened

to be the closest vehicle belonging to the family. We could still hear Warrior barking.

I was still standing there, shocked, as were Guthrie, Steven and Kenny.

"What's with your damn dog?" Kenny demanded, sounding angry.

I didn't answer, and when Ford was back in our circle, he was breathing heavier from the exertion of restraining Warrior.

"Leave him in there until everybody's gone home," Ford told me.

"Stupid dog," Kenny said. He was no longer a jolly or laughing drinker. He looked shell-shocked, and nervous and even, I saw, frightened.

He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and I saw that it was shaking. He was actually shaking.

I felt a pit begin in my stomach. Warrior had never been anything but sweet and loveable, affable and friendly. Welcoming to everyone

who came to visit our ranch. So friendly and welcoming in fact, that Brian and Evan used to joke that Warrior would help robbers carry stolen items

to their cars.

Never had he ever reacted in such a way to a person. I stared at Kenny, as Guthrie made a joke about how

Kenny must smell like a cat or something, to tick Warrior off that way.

"Dog's damn crazy," Kenny said.

"No. He's not," I said. I said it quietly, but my voice was clear. "He knows exactly what he's doing."

Kenny looked at me, and I didn't look away.

"How'd you hurt your arm, Kenny?" I said.

"You know how," he said, sounding mad,

"I know what you told me," I said, and just for the merest of moments it was as though Kenny and I were the only ones

standing there. Ford and Guthrie and Steven faded away.

Then Ford said, "Come on, Har," and was hustling me towards the back door, as the boys went the other way across the yard.

"What's that all about?" Ford asked me, pushing me along.

I stopped in my tracks, stubbornly. "I'm gonna go let my dog out. He didn't do anything wrong."

"He went after Kenny-" Ford began.

"He had a good reason to do that," I said, and turned around to walk back to Daniel's truck.

I was halted with a jerk that nearly set me off of my feet.

"What's your problem?" Ford demanded.

"Warrior's not the one that should be punished!" I twisted, but Ford kept his hand wrapped in the material of my t-shirt.

"Turn me loose, Ford!" I ordered.

"I will. But you leave him right where he is for now."

I looked away from him, stubbornly refusing to answer.

"You go in, and do whatever you need to do, but you leave him there until all these people have gone home, do you hear?" Ford said, very unFord-like.

"Yes. I hear," I said, still not looking at him.

7

Well, I went inside then. I didn't really have much choice in the matter. Ford was behind me, making sure that I went.

"You can turn loose of me now," I told Ford, irritated.

"You promise to behave?" he asked.

"Yes!" I said, in frustration.

Hannah and Adam, in the kitchen together, with Hannah pulling yet another pie from the refrigerator, turned to look at us when we came in.

Obviously curious as to our demeanor and the exchange between Ford and I, they both stopped what they were doing.

"What's up?" Adam asked, looking us both over.

I pressed my lips together, and went to get a glass down. Filling it with water from the faucet, I had my back to them.

"Just a problem with the dog," Ford said quietly.

"What dog?" Adam asked, at the same time as Hannah asked, "What happened?"

"Warrior," Ford said. "He made like he was gonna take a piece out of Kenny."

"Did he actually bite?" Hannah asked, sounding alarmed.

"No," Ford said, and Hannah gave a sigh of apparent relief.

"Where is he?" Adam asked then.

"I stuck him in Daniel's truck for the time being," Ford said.

I still had my back to them, and I drank some of the water, finding that I was shaking, too. I turned to face them. Ford looked sorrowful now, and

I knew he was feeling bad about the situation. Adam was eyeing me.

"What's the problem here, with you two?" he asked, gesturing from me to Ford and back again.

"She's upset with me," Ford said, and I could tell he was trying to downplay my near-tantrum, so Adam wouldn't get onto me.

Good old Ford, I thought. I really didn't deserve him.

"Harlie?" Adam asked, and I turned to meet his gaze. Reluctantly, I might add.

"What do you have to say?" he asked me.

A loud chorus of laughter came from the living room. It sounded as though all the guests were still here.

"Nothing," I said shortly.

There was a glimmer of irritation on Adam's face. I knew that he thought I was just being stubborn, and copping an attitude.

"Is it alright if I go up to bed?" I asked then.

"Harlie-" Adam began, but Hannah laid her hand on his arm.

"Let her go, Adam," she said softly.

Adam hesitated, and then said, "Alright. Go to bed."

I looked at Ford then. "Will you let Warrior out, as soon as Kenny leaves?"

"Yeah. I will," Ford said, quiet.

"Thank you," I said, quietly, too.

I was at the bottom of the back staircase when Adam said, "We're gonna talk in the morning. Alright?"

There was a note of warning in his voice, if I chose to hear it.

"Yes, sir," I said, and went up the stairs, feeling as though each of my feet weighed twenty pounds each.

7


	23. Poking the bear

I went to my bedroom, and shut the door, getting into fuzzy, soft pajamas, letting my hair free from its braid, and turning on my fan.

I crawled between the sheets, and instead of lying there, puzzling over what a weird, mixed up kind of day that it had been, I went

right to sleep. Exhaustion won out over anger and curiousity.

When I woke the next morning, it was early. Six-thirty according to the clock on my desk. I tried to think what day of the week

that it was. All the days seemed to be running together lately.

Wednesday. It was Wednesday.

As I got up and began stirring around, pulling out jeans and shirt, and socks for the day, there was a light tap on my door.

"Yeah, come in," I said.

When Ford was the one that came in, I can't say that I was all that happy. I wasn't mad at him, exactly, but I would have

preferred he leave me to myself awhile longer before he approached me. But, that's Ford for you. He doesn't like confrontation, or thinking that

somebody might be mad at him. He would be fretting about the previous evening.

"Hey," he greeted me.

"Morning," I said, and went back to rooting thru my drawer looking for matching socks.

"I'm leaving for work pretty soon. I wanted to talk to you before I left," he said.

I grabbed two socks, not caring at that point that they did not match.

I went over to the bed and sat down, pulling on the socks. "Okay."

"Warrior seems fine this morning," he said. "Hannah made him gravy."

"Good," I said shortly.

Ford stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at me sorrowfully. "Harlie," he said.

That was all. But it spoke much more.

"What?" I asked, knowing full well what he meant.

"Come on, Har," he said. He came over and sat down next to me on the bed. "What if I hadn't put the dog up? What if he'd really have hurt

somebody?"

"He wouldn't hurt anybody else," I said. "Just Kenny."

"Well, why?" he asked, looking curious.

"Because." I hesitated. "There's a reason, Ford."

"What is it?"

I looked into his face, wondering what he would say if I told him my suspicions. If he would dismiss them pretty much as Brian had, or

if he would see the validity of them.

Without any warning, Evan pushed the half-open door open further. "I thought I heard your voice in here," he said to Ford. "Can you help

me with somethin' before you leave?"

"Yeah. Okay," Ford said, and stood up. He paused to look at me again. "I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Yeah," I said, and stood up, too, gathering up my jeans.

As Ford went out, and Evan moved to follow him, I went to the door of my bedroom, to call after him, "Ev, have you seen Guthrie this

morning yet?"

"I think he's eatin' breakfast," Evan said, and went on down the stairs.

I closed my door, and got dressed, going downstairs, and carrying my boots. As I came into the living room, it was to find

Evan, Ford and Guthrie standing there together, in a discussion. A tense discussion, from the looks of it.

Daniel came from behind me, giving me a poke in the side.

"Mornin', squirt," he said, and went on around.

"Were you drinkin' too, Guthrie?" Evan was asking, in a low voice.

"No. I wasn't drinkin'," Guthrie returned, sounding irritated. "I wouldn't be tipping a flask right here at the house like that."

"Well, I think Kenny's lost his darn mind," Ford offered.

Personally, I agreed with that, but I kept still, pausing behind them to listen.

"What's up?" Daniel asked, stopping to listen as well, and looking concerned.

Guthrie looked at Ford, and then at Evan. He looked reluctant to share with another brother. Probably he thought that it was enough

to bring Evan into it.

"What?" Daniel demanded, a little more forcefully.

"Kenny was sloshed last night," Ford said.

"He get ahold of some beer?" Daniel asked.

"No. Has a flask of whiskey," Ford said.

"Spill your guts, Ford," Guthrie said, sounding mad. "Just tell everything, why don't ya?"

"Hey," Daniel said. "Don't be gettin' pissed at Ford. He's just worried."

"It's fine," Guthrie said, and then raised his voice a notch. "FINE. He drinks once in a while. So what? It's not like any of you guys were angels

at 17."

"Just don't wanna see you get into trouble, Guth," Evan said.

"I won't," Guthrie said, short and clipped. "Now can we just drop it?" And with that, he stalked off toward the kitchen.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, looking after Guthrie, and then turned back to Evan and Ford.

"Hmmm," he said.

"I'll talk to him again later," Evan said. "When he's settled down a little."

Ford gave a heavy sigh, and went towards the front door. "Aren't you gonna eat breakfast?" Evan called after him.

"Not hungry," Ford muttered, and went out.

7

After that, I wasn't any too hungry myself. Conscious of Guthrie right beside me, rigid and silent, I managed only a

single pancake, and a glass of milk.

"So what have you decided for your party this weekend?" Hannah asked both of us. "Hot dogs and marshmallows?"

"Um, I guess so," I said.

Guthrie was stiff and silent.

"Guthrie?" Hannah prompted. "What do you think?"

"I don't care," Guthrie said shortly.

"Well, we could probably manage some hamburgers instead," Hannah went on. "If that's what you two want to do. Maybe potato

salad, too."

"Don't go to any trouble, Hannah," Guthrie said, and pushed his empty plate away, standing up. "I don't think this is the best time

for a party, anyway. We should just call it off."

Hannah looked stunned. Before she could form any words or question him, Guthrie was heading out the back door, saying only, "I'll

be waitin' for you outside, Brian. Do you want me to get the Jeep ready?"

"Yeah," Brian said. "Go ahead."

After Guthrie had gone, the group at the table was silent for a long, long moment.

"What's chewin' on Guthrie?" Brian asked.

"He's upset about something," Hannah said then, sounding worried.

"Just a mood, most likely," Adam said.

It seemed as if everybody was looking at me then. Well, at least Hannah, Adam, Brian, Clare, and Crane.

"Do you know what it is, Harlie?" Hannah asked me then. "That's bothering Guthrie?"

I felt like a bug being examined under a microscope. I gave a little, non-committal shrug. There was no way I wanted to

get into anything right at the breakfast table like that.

I looked across the table at Evan, and he intercepted the questioning.

"He's just riled up a little. Ford and I were givin' him some advice," he said.

"Oh," Hannah said, and looked down the table to Adam.

"Something we need to be worried about?" Adam asked Evan.

Evan glanced at Daniel, and then said, "No. I'll talk to him later, make sure he's alright."

Adam looked serious but said no more.

"What about you?" Hannah asked me. "Do you still want to have the party?"

I shrugged. "Maybe not right now."

"Oh," Hannah said, sounding concerned.

"I mean, we can do it later this summer sometime," I added.

"Are you sure?" Hannah asked.

"I'd rather wait until Guthrie wants to do it."

"Well, maybe he'll change his mind about this weekend," she said.

"Maybe," I said, but inside, I knew that wasn't likely.

7

After that, everybody got busy with chores. After I'd started a load of laundry downstairs, I went outside to

pick the garden. I was in the midst of that, sweaty and feeling irritated, when I heard my name being called.

"Take a break," Adam said, motioning me over.

I was pretty sure that his 'mid-morning break' coincided with his wanting to have that talk with me. The one he'd mentioned

last night in the kitchen before I went up to bed after the altercation between Warrior and Kenny.

"I'm okay!" I called back. "I don't need a break."

"Yeah, come on," he called. And with that, he walked on towards the house, not even looking to see if I would

follow. I sighed, and stepped around my bucket of peppers and tomatoes that I'd been picking. He knew that I'd follow along,

that's why he didn't look back.

I went inside the house, which felt cool after the heat of the garden. Something smelled like cinnamon, drifting from the

kitchen. Brian was sitting on the couch, drinking a tall glass of iced tea, and Adam came from the kitchen, also with a glass

of tea in his hand.

"Hey, sugar," he said to me. "Get yourself some ice water or something to drink and come on back in here."

I would have said that I didn't need anything to drink, but that would be dumb. I was thirsty, and besides, the extra few

minutes that it took me to fill a glass with ice and make some Koolaid or something, would give me a chance to prepare myself.

With both Adam AND Brian both in there, I would need to be fortified.

I mixed some lime Koolaid, putting in probably a bit too much sugar, and poured myself a glass, reaching into the freezer for

a couple of ice cubes.

I walked slowly to the living room, and caught the end of the conversation between them. Something about a sick cow, and the grass

for the cows getting scarce.

I sat down in one of the recliners across from the couch, tucking my feet up underneath of me.

"There's no way we can afford to start feedin' hay now already," Brian was saying.

"No," Adam said, in agreement.

They both looked to me then.

"What happened last night?" Adam asked. "With Kenny?"

I knew very well that Ford would have explained how Warrior got aggressive toward Kenny, and all of that. But, I also knew there

was no point to saying that. Adam was asking for my explanation. Not Ford's.

"Warrior was sitting on my lap, and Kenny came over closer, and Warrior growled and then tried to bite him," I said.

"Was Kenny teasin' him, or something like that?" Adam asked.

"No."

I turned my eyes toward Brian. He was watching, and listening, and I knew he was thinking about my conviction that

Kenny's arm injury was caused by being bitten while he was in the midst of something that he shouldn't have been.

"So Ford collared him and put him up in the truck," Adam said, in statement.

I nodded.

"Did you give Ford some mouth for puttin' the dog up?" Adam asked.

I hesitated, and then said, "Yeah. I did."

"I know you don't want to have to get rid of your dog," Adam said quietly. "Do you?"

I looked at Adam in horror. "No! I don't!."

"Well, if Ford kept Kenny from being bitten, then you ought to be thanking him. Not giving him any grief," he said.

I was silent, looking at him, and biting at my lip.

"Because if your dog was to start in being aggressive towards people, without any cause, then we might not be able to

keep him around here," Adam added.

I swallowed, and looked from Adam to Brian, and then back to Adam again.

"Not without cause," I said, quietly.

"What?" Adam asked

"If he'd bitten Kenny last night, it wouldn't have been without cause."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Adam demanded.

"I think Kenny's a part of everything that's going on around here lately," I began bravely. "I think that his arm has that

bandage on it because he's the guy that Warrior bit in the field that night."

Adam stared at me for a long moment, and then, before he could say anything, I looked at Brian.

"I know you said that there was no clear evidence, but now there is," I said.

"Brian said you had some notion about Kenny being involved," Adam said.

"Yeah. I do," I said, sitting up straighter and looking at them both without flinching. "And it's not just a notion. Now, we have that

clear evidence that you were talking about, Bri."

"What clear evidence is that?" Brian asked, and I could tell he was just trying to pacify me.

"The fact that Warrior went after Kenny the way he did last night!" I said.

They were both giving me 'that look'. The look that says that they think I'm off on some wild tangent that has no actual bearing

at all.

"That's not exactly evidence, peach," Brian said.

"No. Not at all," Adam agreed.

"When has Warrior ever gotten aggressive before?" I asked them. "Exactly two times. Once, when he bit one of those guys

that were in our field. And that was because they were kicking him. And the second time was last night. With Kenny." I paused,

a little dramatically, to let the obvious implication of Kenny's involvement sink in.

I thought I was being perfectly reasonable, pointing things out, but a look at both their faces showed that they believed

otherwise.

"I told you what I thought about this the other night," Brian said.

"Yes, I know, but-" I began.

"No buts, Harlie," Brian said, cutting me off.

I stopped talking, and gave him a frustrated look, crossing my arms.

"This is a serious accusation that you're making, sugar," Adam said.

"I know that. It doesn't make me happy to say it, or believe it," I objected.

"You can't go around accusing somebody, based on the fact that a dog doesn't like them," Brian pointed out.

"Kenny's been around here about a million times since we got Warrior," I said. "And there was never a problem before

between them. Warrior liked him just fine."

Adam looked at me, and then sighed. "Come here a minute," he told me, and patted the footstool in front of the couch.

I sighed right back. "What's the point? You both think I'm a sandwich short of a picnic. Crazy."

"The point is, I told you to come over here," Adam said, sounding irritated.

I got up and went over, sitting on the footstool. Adam leaned forward a little, resting a hand on my knee.

"Ford says that Kenny was pretty loud last night, wound up and all. Maybe Warrior didn't like that," Adam suggested.

"He was loud alright," I said, wondering if Adam and Brian knew about the flask that Kenny had been carrying. Most likely, not.

"Well, maybe that was it," Adam said. "Causing the dog to get worked up."

"I don't think so," I said stubbornly.

"Lord, girl, you're stubborn," Brian said, getting to his feet.

He shook his head a little, and went back out thru the front door, letting the screen door bang shut behind him.

"Great. Now Brian's mad at me," I said, in frustration.

"He's not mad," Adam said, leaning back against the couch. "He's just worried that you've got yourself all worked up, and convinced

of something that-" he stopped talking and hesitated.

"Something that has no merit? No clear evidence?" I suggested mockingly, sarcasm evident in my tone.

"That's enough," he said, sternly. "You don't need to be a smart mouth about it."

I sighed, looking at him. "I don't want to believe bad of Kenny, Adam. Really, I don't."

"I know," and now his voice was kind again.

"His dad's sick," I said. "He has cancer. Kenny told me last night."

"Oh, man," Adam said, and I could tell that he was really bothered by hearing that.

"Yeah."

After a long moment of silence, he said, "I'm not saying that I don't understand. There's things about this with Kenny that

are strange. But let's just let it ride for right now. Keep your eyes and ears open. See if anything else comes up."

"Okay," I agreed.

Because, really, at that point, what more could I say?

Adam leaned forward again. "One more thing, though. You were wrong to argue with Ford about it. If you'd let the dog out, and

he ripped Kenny up, then there would have been hell to pay. And we don't need any more worries right now."

I knew that, in this part at least, Adam was right.

"I'll talk to Ford," I promised.

"Alright," he said. He patted my knee and stood up.

7

I went back to my garden picking after that, and I was out there until nearly lunchtime. I knew when it was time for lunch, because

the old truck and Jeep roared thru the pastures and parked, and brothers began spilling out.

When I saw Guthrie climbing from the Jeep, I hollered to him.

"Guthrie! Comere!"

He ambled over to me. "What?" he asked.

"Will you carry one of the buckets for me?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said, and took the heaviest bucket of vegetables, while I took the half-full one.

"How was your morning?" I asked him.

"Same old, same old," he said, and at that response I knew that he still hadn't recovered his customary sunny mood.

"Brian and Adam are worried about the grass being almost gone," I said, as we started across the yard.

"Yeah. We need some rain."

"How about going fishing this afternoon?" I asked him then.

"I can't. I've got some things to do," he said vaguely.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Just stuff," he said.

I studied him. "Are you mad at me? Because Warrior tried to bite Kenny?"

Guthrie stopped walking and turned to look at me. "Why would I be mad at you for somethin' like that?" he asked. "It wasn't your fault."

"No. It wasn't my fault," I agreed, stressing the word 'my'. Guthrie frowned at me.

"What do ya mean by that?" he demanded. "Whose fault do you think it was?"

I gathered my nerve. Guthrie wouldn't want to hear what I was about to say. But if were going to keep our 'eyes and ears open'

around Kenny like Adam had suggested, then he needed to be in the loop.

"I think it was Kenny's fault," I said, quietly but clearly, and meeting Guthrie's eye.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because." I hesitated. "Because I think Warrior recognized him."

"Well, sure, he recognized him," Guthrie said, clearly baffled.

"I don't mean from them being around each other here at the house," I said carefully.

"What, then?"

"I mean that Warrior recognized Kenny as being the guy, or one of the guys, that was kicking him that night."

When I'd said that, Guthrie stared at me, as though time stood still.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" he finally said.

I kept my eyes on Guthrie's, and kept still, just waiting for what I was saying to really sink in to him.

And it wasn't easy for me, either. Guthrie's face grew more set, and angrier by the second.

"That's a stupid thing to say," he said. "I've been buddies with Kenny for ten years. He wouldn't have a part in anything like that."

"Guthrie, think about it," I said. "Kenny's been acting weird, not coming around here. And he acted strange when I saw him in town

the other day. He's all uncomfortable, and stuff. And whenever the subject of the trouble around here comes up, he acts like he

doesn't hear, or even care!"

"You're crazy," Guthrie said, and it wasn't the sort of 'crazy' that is tossed around in joking between us. It was an angry

sort of word.

"I know it sounds that way. But why would Warrior go after him the way that he did?"

"I don't know. Maybe your dog's as crazy as you are," Guthrie said, sounding disgusted.

"Guth-" I began.

Suddenly Guthrie erupted. "Shut up, Har!" he told me, raising his voice until he was close to yelling.

I stared at him in horror.

"Don't say that kind of crap to me again," he said. "And if you do, don't bother talkin' to me at all."

"Hey," I heard Daniel's voice. "What's goin' on?"

Neither Guthrie or I said a word. He just glared at me and I stared at him. Then, Daniel was at my elbow.

"What's the matter?" Daniel asked again.

Guthrie turned and stormed off, leaving the full bucket that he'd been carrying for me, setting right where he left it.

"You okay?" Daniel asked me.

"Yeah," I said, and promptly burst into tears.

7


	24. Hammocking

Daniel's no stranger to my tears. He's the one, or one of the ones, that I would most run to when I was little whenever something happened.

He's perfected his technique over the years. My tears don't distress him the way they do Ford, or Evan.

He took the bucket from my hand, and set it on the back step.

"Come on," he said to me, and, as Evan walked towards us, Daniel added, "Hey, tell Hannah we'll be in to eat after a bit, alright?"

"Sure," Evan said, and thankfully he didn't question what my problem was, or why I was sniveling like a baby.

And before I even really noticed, Daniel had me walking. Down the driveway, and the horses were running over to the fence

to greet us. That's where we ended up, leaning against the fence, and petting the horses thru the spaces in the pickets.

Petra crowded into the front of the group, but when she discovered that neither I nor Daniel had any treats for her, she

tossed her head and went back to eating grass. Old Charley and Dandy stayed close, though, and I touched Charley's velvet nose.

By now I wasn't crying so hard. Daniel hadn't said anything as yet. Just quiet. And waiting.

As my tears tapered off, Daniel asked quietly, "Better?"

"Yeah," I said, but my voice sounded all funny. Raspy like.

Still Daniel didn't press me. He just waited.

"I was trying-to explain to Guthrie," I began.

"About what?"

"About Kenny. Being one of the guys in our fields on the ATVs that night."

"You think that, huh?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Tell me why," Daniel said, and his tone wasn't doubting, or angry, It was more gentle, and open.

"Because of the way he acts. All weird and uncomfortable around us. And because Warrior went after him last

night. Like he remembered him from the night he got hurt."

"Hmm," Daniel said.

"And he has a bandage on his arm. That's where the guy was bit that night. Brian and I heard him yelling that he was bitten

on his arm," I added.

Daniel sighed a little. "Wow," he said. "That's some heavy stuff."

"I just wanted to talk to Guthrie about it," I said, my eyes filling with tears again.

"He's not gonna wanna hear that, squirt. None of it."

I brushed at my cheek. "Yeah. I guess."

"Did you think he would?" Daniel pointed out.

"No," I admitted. "But I didn't think that he'd get so mad at me."

"He'll come around. He may not accept what you're sayin', but he won't stay mad for long."

"I hope not," I said fervently. Then, I studied Daniel closer. "Aren't you going to say what Brian and Adam did? Tell me

that I shouldn't make accusations without clear evidence, and all of that?"

"No. I'm not gonna say any of that," Daniel said.

"How come?" I asked, facing him.

"Well, for you to say somethin' like this, about Kenny, when you've known him your whole life practically, then I don't

think it's somethin' that you'd say lightly, without some thought behind it."

For a long moment, I couldn't speak for the lump in my throat.

"You get me, Daniel," I said. "You really do get me."

"Yeah. I guess I do," he said, and smiled at me.

7

Daniel went on to tell me that he thought I should do what Adam and Brian suggested, about keeping my eyes and ears open

concerning Kenny. Not go off half-cocked.

I felt a little better as we went inside to join everybody else at the table for lunch. But only a little better. And when I had to sit next to

Guthrie, well, that killed my appetite.

I took a piece of turkey and some cantaloupe, and forked some salad onto my plate.

Guthrie was eating, silent and stiff next to me. Hannah kept watching him, and then me, too, her glance traveling between us. Hannah's no

pushover. She can read Guthrie and I both pretty well, and she knew there was trouble brewing between us.

When Guthrie had finished his meal, he stood up, pushing his chair in and taking his plate to the sink.

And then he went out the back door without saying a single, solitary word to anyone.

"What the hell," Brian said, without preamble.

I looked miserably across the table at Daniel, and then stabbed at a piece of lettuce with my fork.

I felt suddenly, too warm, and with the beginnings of another headache.

"Are you alright?" Hannah asked me, her voice quiet.

"Yes," I said, poking at my salad so hard that a cherry tomato flew off my plate.

"Maybe you should rest a little while after lunch," Hannah said.

"I'm supposed to pick the rest of the pears," I reminded her.

"Well-" Hannah began.

"Leave that until later," Evan said. "I'll help you after supper."

"Okay," I said, glad to be talked into waiting.

After lunch was finished, I took my copy of Pride and Prejudice, and went to lay in the hammock in the back yard. I read awhile, and ended of

drifting off to sleep in the shade of the tree.

After awhile I woke up, because the hammock was being given a push to start it swinging again. Evan stood on one side and Ford stood

on the other. "Hey, sleeping beauty," Evan said. "You've been asleep all afternoon."

"No way," I protested. "What time is it?"

"Almost four o'clock," Evan said.

"It can't be," I said, feeling sort of groggy.

"Must be nice," Evan went on. "Sleepin' while the rest of us are sweating our butts off around here."

When he grinned at me, I reached my foot out as if to kick him.

"Looks like you still have your butt to me," I said. "You must not have worked as hard as you think."

"Ha," Evan said, and gave me another push.

I had been trying to sit up so I could get out of the hammock, but when it began swaying again, I sank back.

Ford gave me another push, swinging me back over to Evan's side.

"Seriously, guys, stop," I said. "You're making me dizzy."

"We're goin' out tonight," Evan said. "You want to ask Steven and come along?"

"You and Nancy?" I asked him. "Where to?"

"Me and Nancy," Evan said. "And Ford and Valerie. To the movies, maybe out to eat."

"Oh," I said, sitting up as the hammock slowed to a stop, and leaning on my elbows. "That sounds fun."

Ford held out a hand to help me out of the hammock, and I took it, letting him pull me up.

"Yeah. I'd like to go," I said, actually estatic about getting to go somewhere for a change. "I'll call Steven."

"Okay," Evan said. "Or you can come by yourself. You don't have to ask anybody."

"No, it's okay. I'd like Steven to go," I said. "Thanks, Ev."

"No problem," he said. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up, and we'll leave in about an hour. Make sure you get the okay

from Adam to go."

"Okay," I said, and as Evan walked away, heading towards the back door, I looked at Ford.

He gave me a slow smile, and I said, "How was your day at work?"

"Not bad. It's interesting work. Sort of a change."

"That's good." I hesitated, thinking. "So, I have something to say to you."

"Okay," Ford said, looking at me.

"I shouldn't have gotten mouthy with you last night, about putting Warrior up. I know you were just trying to help, and I was

wrong to get so bratty about it," I said.

Ford nodded in response to my apology. "I just didn't want it to go bad, with the dog, and Kenny," he said.

"I know. I'm sorry." I looked up to meet his eyes.

"It's alright," he said, regarding me with a serious expression. "What were you talking about this morning? When you said that

about there being a reason for Warrior to bite Kenny?"

I bit at my lip, and then briefly told Ford what I believed, or suspected, about Kenny.

Ford's expression didn't change much. He maintained his serious demeanor.

I finished by telling Ford that Brian had warned me off of jumping to conclusions, and that Adam had, also, been reticent, and cautioned

me to keep myself in check.

When Ford didn't say anything still, I asked him if he agreed with Adam and Brian.

"I guess I agree with them, mostly," Ford said. "I mean, you have to be careful about accusing somebody of something. And, this would

be a really serious accusation."

"I know."

"If Kenny is involved, then it will come out eventually," Ford went on.

I had the thought that with our sheriff's department on the case, it could be years before anyone was caught. But I didn't say that. I did tell

Ford about Guthrie, though, and how he'd yelled at me, and gotten so angry.

"He's not all that happy with me, either," Ford said. "He didn't want me telling Evan about Kenny drinking last night."

I felt a lump in my stomach at the thought of Guthrie continuing to be mad at me for any period of time. Even when we were

really little our fights didn't ever last all that long. If I was totally honest, I would have to admit that was because Guthrie had usually given

in to me, and let me have my way.

"I wish I hadn't said anything to him about Kenny," I sighed. "I should have kept my mouth shut. I just thought maybe if I told him,

then he could notice if something with Kenny seemed off."

After that we didn't talk about Guthrie anymore. Ford went inside, and I went to find Adam. He wasn't hard to find. I followed the

sound of hammering, and looked up. He was on the roof of the tool shed. I went to the side of the shed where the ladder was leaning,

and climbed up until I could look out over the roof.

"Hey, Adam," I said, and he flinched, visibly startled, not having heard me coming up.

"Harlie," he said, turning to look at me, and letting out a deep sigh. "Good Lord."

"Sorry. I wasn't trying to sneak up on you," I said.

He shook his head and went back to hammering down a loose shingle.

I went to the top rung and eased up onto the roof, crawling on my knees.

"Girl, what do you think you're doin'?" Adam asked, as I crept over to his side.

"I can help you," I said.

"I don't like you being up here," he said.

"Let me help," I coaxed. "Are you ready for another shingle?"

"Almost."

I inched over a bit, and pulled a couple more shingles from the package, and lifted them, flapping, scooting back over to

him.

"Stop crawling around up here," Adam said. "Just sit in one spot."

"Okay," I said, and sat on my knees, watching him nail the shingles.

After a couple of moments, when he paused in his hammering, I said, "Evan and Ford are taking Nancy and Valerie out tonight. Evan said

I could come along if I wanted to."

He hammered again, not saying anything immediately.

"Evan said I could ask Steven," I added.

Adam paused, looking at me. "Well, what's the plan?"

"Evan said maybe the movies, and out to eat," I said.

"Hmm," he said. He took one of the shingles and laid it, nailing it into place.

"Is it alright if I go?" I asked him.

"Yeah. It's fine."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll go down and try to call Steven."

Adam paused, looking at me thoughtfully. "You've seen quite a bit of him this summer." That's all he said, but I could hear the unspoken

questions behind the few words. He thought I was getting involved in a serious dating relationship with Steven.

I had to smile a little at his concern.

"What's funny?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"Steven and I are just friends," I told him.

"Really?" he asked, and I didn't miss the relief that passed over his face at my statement about Steven and I being

only friends.

"Really," I assured him.

"Does he know that?" Adam asked.

"Yes. He knows. We talked about it."

"Well, then." He paused. "That's good." He began gathering up his tools. "You've got a lot of time to worry about all of that stuff."

I smiled again and said, "It will happen someday. I mean, it's bound to, right?"

"I guess so," Adam said, putting his hammer back into the tool belt. "But the longer it takes, the better."

"I can't be your baby forever," I told him. "I do have to grow up."

He looked at me, and our eyes sort of smiled at one another. "Grow up," he said. "That's okay. But, being my baby? I hate to break it

to you, but that is a forever thing."

"Okay," I said.

He took the package of shingles that was left, and tossed it to the ground, and then said, "Let me go down first, and then you can come down."

So I waited while he descended the ladder, and then he paused at the bottom, holding it steady with one hand, and holding the other hand out

in order to catch me if I should begin to fall.

I thought then of the confusing kiss that Seth and I had shared, and the information that he'd given me, about being paid to 'scout out' fences

by unknown men. That was important information. I knew I should tell somebody. Then the sheriff could question that friend of Seth's that had

been at our line cabin, and maybe that would provide some clarity in this whole mystery. Obviously, though, I was reluctant to do so.

It would lead, more than likely, to Adam being angry with me for talking to Seth at all. And, of course I didn't want that. Plus, I tried to convince myself

that it wasn't a guarantee that it would help solve the case.

My conscience had been prickling ever since Seth had told me, though. And I didn't like that feeling. I'd promised Adam that

I would be honest with him, and that he would hear things from me personally, and not have to hear about it thru anyone else. Of course, there was

always the chance that he wouldn't hear about my talking with Seth at all.

I studied Adam out of the corner of my eye, as he began to walk into the tool shed, and I followed him. He began to unbuckle the

tool belt that he was wearing.

"Guthrie's mad at me," I said, without any ceremony.

"How come?" he asked.

"Because. I said something to him about Kenny."

Adam hung up the tool belt on a hook, and paused to look at me. "Mmmm," he said, in a way that suggested that I'd done

the wrong thing.

"I know," I said with a sigh. "I should have kept my mouth shut."

"I don't think Guthrie wants to hear that about a friend, sugar. And, coming from you, it probably shook him up."

"I know," I said again. "I might as well forget about him talking to me the rest of the summer."

Adam shook his head a little. "I wouldn't go that far." He went out of the shed into the sunshine.

I followed him, still debating about whether I should share the information about somebody paying to have fences 'scouted'.

I took a glance up at Adam's face. He looked tired. I mean really tired. I would, I decided, find a better time to talk to him.

7


	25. Hot water and the lack thereof

I went inside and called Steven. He was outside, his mother told me, but she would have him call me back. I went on upstairs to

take a quick shower, and change my clothes. Evan, and Ford too, had already taken showers and had succeeded in using up all

the hot water. So my shower was quick and cold.

I was pulling on my boots when somebody hollered up the stairs to me that I had a telephone call.

I hustled down the stairs, one boot on and carrying the other, to pick up the receiver that had been laid on the table.

When I answered and it was Steven, I asked him if he wanted to go that evening and he was his usual enthusiastic self.

"Great!" he responded. "If I'm there in about forty minutes, will that work?"

"I think so," I said. "I won't let the boys leave until you get here."

After hanging up, I sat down in the nearest chair to pull on my other boot. Almost before I realized it, because he was so quiet coming

thru, Guthrie was walking past me, heading up the stairs.

He was in his sock feet, and one entire side of him was covered in mud, with bits of hay sticking to his clothes.

"Hi, Guth," I said, pausing in my boot yanking.

"Hey," he responded shortly.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"Horse spooked. Tossed me off."

"Are you okay?" I asked then.

"I'm fine," he said, clipped.

He was half-way up the stairs, as I was taking in the fact that he was being about as friendly as a wounded bear, when I remembered

that there was no more hot water.

"Hey," I began, intent on telling him that it wasn't a good time to take a shower.

"What?" he asked, pausing to look down at me.

I stood up, wiping my hands on the legs of my jeans.

"Nothing," I said, deciding that he could find out about it on his own. He was already in a lousy mood.

Guthrie made a sort of huffing sound, a sound of irritation, and continued on up the stairs. I had planned to go back up to my room

to get my hair brushed, and rebraided, but I decided to wait for a few minutes. No point in being in Guthrie's line of fire after he

was greeted with the shock of all that cold water.

I went to the kitchen, where I found Hannah, engrossed in flipping thru cookbooks, and bouncing Isaac, at the same time.

"I'll take him," I offered, and reached down to pick the baby up.

"Thank you, sweetie," Hannah said, flipping more pages in the worn Betty Crocker cookbook.

I spun around a couple of times, and Isaac chortled with glee.

"What are you looking for?" I asked Hannah.

"There's a certain recipe that I wanted to make for Adam's birthday. I know it's in one of these cookbooks. I just don't remember

which one."

"Oh." I lifted the baby so I could blow a raspberry on his stomach. I thought for a moment. Adam's birthday was coming up

soon. A week away. "Are we gonna have a party for him?"

"I doubt he'd want that," she said. "You know he doesn't like a lot of fuss made over himself."

"Well, we should have a party, anyway," I said.

"You think so, huh?" she asked, sounding amused.

"Sure. What's he gonna do about it, after we plan it and everything?" I pointed out.

"What's who gonna do about what?" a voice behind us asked, and both Hannah and I turned, startled, to see Adam at the bottom

of the back stairs.

"Hi, cowboy," Hannah said, turning in her chair to look up at him. "When did you sneak in?"

"A few minutes ago," Adam said, crossing over to her, and leaning down to give her a quick kiss. "I had a call I needed to make."

He gave the baby an affectionate kiss on the top of his head, and Isaac reached out to him. Adam took him from me, and Isaac

began pulling at Adam's chin. "What are you two girls up to?" he asked.

"We're discussing your birthday," Hannah told him.

"Ah," he said. "Not much discussion needs to happen for that."

Hannah just smiled at him, but I said, "Uh huh," and he turned to look at me.

"How's that?" he asked me.

"We're thinking about your party," I told him.

"No party," he said, firmly.

"If your family wants to have a party for you, it would be rude not to accept it," I said, grinning at him, and feeling ornery.

"No party, Harlie Marie," he said.

He handed the baby back to Hannah. "I've got to get back out to work," he said.

"Alright. Supper in about an hour and a half," she told him.

"Balloons, lots of them," I went on. "In all colors. And a bunch of people over. We can make the cake in the shape of

a cartoon character, right, Hannah? Maybe," I said, pretending to be considering, "A Bugs Bunny cake? Or would Donald Duck be better? And I'll

take pictures of the cake, and have the newspaper put it on the front page."

"Harlie," Adam said, warningly, but with a glint of amusement in his eye.

"Maybe they could even blow the picture up so it's giant sized," I suggested, enjoying teasing him.

Adam aimed a half-playful swat at my behind, but I saw it coming, and dodged, backing up against the wall. He came closer, towering over

me, teasing me as much as I was him.

He took my arm, attempting to turn me from the wall.

"What?!" I said, with a giggle.

"Turn around," he ordered.

"Why?! No..." I said, laughing.

"I'm gonna tan your backside, that's why," he told me.

Adam and I began to tussle, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, bending me over his arm, and by now Hannah was laughing

too. As he raised a hand as if to deliver the promised threat, Guthrie came storming into the kitchen. His hair was dripping wet,

and he was still in the process of yanking a t-shirt over his head.

"Real nice, Har," he thundered, "Using up all the hot water! Sometimes you only worry about yourself and nobody else around

here!"

Startled by his outburst, Adam and I stopped our horsing around, and all three of us turned our eyes toward Guthrie.

I could have protested, and pointed out that the hot water had already been depleted when I got to the shower earlier, but I wasn't going

to throw Ford and Evan under the bus like that. Evan had been nice enough to say I could come along tonight with him and Ford, and besides, if I blamed them it would

just sound as though I was making excuses.

Adam and Hannah were both quiet for a few moments, and I think they were thinking that I was going to holler back at Guthrie. When I was

quiet, though, Adam said, "Settle down, Guthrie," in a firm voice.

"You need to stop bein' so darn selfish!" Guthrie accused, glaring at me, and ignoring Adam's decree to settle down.

Selfish? Well, now I thought that was taking it a bit far. I didn't really think that I was selfish, as least where Guthrie was concerned.

Hannah, by now standing as well, said in a quiet tone, "The boys beat Harlie to the shower earlier. Not that you should be yelling at anyone

that way, but in this case, she's not the guilty party."

Guthrie shook his head, in dismissal of Hannah's comment, I guess. "She only thinks about herself," Guthrie went on.

I felt a quick piercing of hurt at his comment.

"That's not true, Guthrie, and you know it," Adam said, sounding as though he was a nine on a scale of one to ten on irritation.

"Did you hear what I said a minute ago, Guthrie?" Hannah asked him.

Guthrie gave a deep sigh, and said, "Yeah."

"Try again," Adam said.

Guthrie and Adam's eyes met and then Guthrie said, "Yes, ma'm, I heard you."

For several long, long moments there was a horrible tense silence in the kitchen.

"You can apologize to your sister," Adam said, in what I call his "terrible" voice.

"It's alright, Adam-" I began.

"Be still," Adam told me, and now I was the recipient of his "terrible" voice, too.

I subsided, feeling miserable. Hannah looked upset, Adam looked furious, and Guthrie looked, well, to me he looked as though

all the fight had gone out of him.

"Sorry I yelled at ya, Har," he said.

"It's okay," I said, really quietly.

And then Guthrie turned, and went back out of the kitchen towards the living room.

"Poor Guthrie," Hannah said, almost as if to herself.

"Not poor Guthrie," Adam denied. "He'd best watch his step."

"He's upset because of what I said," I ventured. "About Kenny."

Adam swung his glance to me. "I agree that it wasn't the best idea to share your suspicions about Kenny with Guthrie right now. But that's

no excuse for him behaving as though he has his paw caught in a trap."

After that, Adam went outside, and I went up to my bedroom, brushing out my hair, which was even more mussed up after my

horsing around session with Adam.

I left it down, putting a wide blue headband on to hold it out of my face.

I heard Evan hollering from the foot of the stairs. "Hustle up, shortcake! Steve's here!"

I ran down the stairs, and Steven turned from where he was standing in the living room to greet me.

As we went outside, it was decided that Steven and I would ride with Evan while he went to pick Nancy up, and that we would meet up

with Ford in Angels Camp after he picked up Valerie.

We set out for our evening, and at first I was still feeling sort of low, thinking about Guthrie, and wondering what he was going to

do that night for fun. After awhile, though, I decided I would try to talk to him again the next day, and I pushed back my gnawing worry,

determined not to waste my night out.

7


	26. A bear on a finger

I did have a lot of fun that night. The six of us went to the bowling alley in Angels Camp, where we spent a couple of hours,

hurling bowling balls down the alley, and laughing, in between snacking on popcorn and nachos.

I hadn't been around Valerie very much at all, so that was a new experience. She was a pretty girl, who was sort of quiet. She

seemed to really like Ford. At least that's the impression that I got. Still, there was something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Something

that bothered me. She wasn't rude or anything like that. Again, it was something that I felt, more than what I knew.

Ford hasn't ever been the sort to bring a lot of girls around the family. He's always been sort of shy, and although he seemed

less shy now, after a year away at college, more self-assured, well, I was still felt protective of him. It's funny, being the only girl

in the family, and the youngest, too, because people always seem to assume that it's only my brothers who are protective of me.

In truth, I'm equally protective of them as well, although I don't have as much say-so over their lives as they do over mine.

I think I'm most protective of Ford and Guthrie. Probably because they're the closest in age to me.

Anyway, I did have fun. I had moments where I would remember Guthrie's face in the kitchen, glaring at me, or the evening before, when

he stared at me as I talked about Kenny. I wished that Guthrie and Kristin were with us, too. That would have been fun, I thought.

After bowling, we went to a pizzeria place that I'd never been to before. There was alcohol being served, but lots of kids and teenagers

were there, so it wasn't like a bar, or anything.

I thought maybe Evan would drink a beer, but he didn't. He had Dr. Pepper, which had three refills on, served in a giant-sized

cup. It was hard, but I used my self-control, and drank water instead of soda. I made up for it by eating more than my share of

pizza, though. I was aware of Steven, sitting right next to me in the crowded booth, and had to smile, thinking that it hadn't even

crossed my mind to act demure, and as though I had no appetite, like girls sometimes felt around boys. I didn't have to worry about

things like that around Steven.

"What's so funny?" Steven asked me, and I only smiled at him, shaking my head.

It was while we were finishing up our meal, that I saw Eddie come in, and immediately I felt all my senses come to the surface.

He was with a girl, a very pretty girl, with jet-black hair, and tight jeans.

"There's Eddie," Ford said, lifting his hand in a wave.

As Eddie approached our table, the girl on his heels, I wiped the grease from the pizza off of my fingers with a napkin.

"Hey, it's a nest of McFaddens," Eddie joked.

Ford and Evan exchanged greetings with Eddie, and he said hello to Nancy. Ford introduced Valerie to him, and after that,

Eddie looked at me.

"Hey, Harlie," he said, in an easy way.

"Hi, Eddie," I said.

He smiled at me, and for a moment I felt all flustered. "Buffy, this is Ford, Evan, Nancy, and Harlie. And Valerie. And everybody, this is

Buffy," he introduced.

More hellos.

In my mind, I was making rude comments. 'Buffy?' What sort of a name is that? Only television characters were named Buffy.

I wished I could quit noticing just how handsome Eddie looked. He was wearing a shirt that seemed to match his eyes exactly. I wiped

my hands on my jeans.

With a start, I realized that I hadn't introduced Steven at all. "This is Steven," I managed. "Steven, this is Eddie."

"How you doin'?" Eddie asked, with an easiness that I envied, shaking hands with Steven.

"I think I've seen you in town," Steven said.

"Pull some chairs up," Ford said. "Eat with us."

Noooo, I thought inside my mind. For a moment, I feared that I'd said it out loud. But, apparently not, because Eddie and

his raven-haired date pulled up chairs and joined us.

The girl said nothing. Nada. Although she laughed a couple of times. She had a hold on Eddie's arm, which seemed so tight that

I was surprised he was able to even raise his arm to eat at all.

I hated her. I didn't know her. But I hated her. Or, if not hated, then I strongly detested her. Well, alright. I was just

plain jealous of her. Sitting next to him, and having the go-ahead to touch his arm like that.

I was quiet mostly, listening to my brothers and Steven talk to Eddie, with occasional comments from Nancy. Valerie, and Buffy

and I were mostly silent, though.

When the pizza was gone, and it was already dark outside, we all began to get up, and scoot the chairs back in.

I was standing beside the door, near Valerie, while Evan and Ford were paying for everything. Steven had gone to wash his

hands, and Nancy was talking to one of the waitresses that she knew.

Eddie came over to stand near me, and he gave me that smile of his, the one that got to me every single time.

"How have you been?" he asked me, quietly.

"Alright," I said. "How about you?"

"Busy. Taking my welding classes."

I nodded, remembering that he'd told me last year how he wanted to go to welding school.

"Do you like it?" I asked.

"So far I really like it."

I glanced around, wondering where his date had gotten to. Eddie was looking at me in a way that I found somewhat

discomforting. I mean, I liked it that he was looking at me. I just couldn't get used to how intensely he affected me.

"You look good, Harlie," he said.

"Thanks," I said, feeling my face warm. Then, like an idiot, I said, "You look good, too."

He grinned. "Thanks."

He put a quarter in one of the gumball machines behind us. When the plastic bubble came out, he popped it open,

and took out a ring, that had a tiny bear on the top.

"How about that?" he asked me, holding it up.

"Cute," I said.

Then, so suddenly that I didn't see it coming, he reached out and took my hand, and put the ring on the pinky finger of my

right hand, since it was so small there was no way it was going to fit any other finger. Before I could react in any way, we

were rejoined by Ford and Evan, and Nancy, and then Steven. Any privacy we had was gone.

Eddie grinned at me again, just as Buffy came from the direction of the bathroom, her lipstick obviously reapplied.

We all walked out to the parking lot together, and everybody said a general goodbye.

I was mostly quiet on the way home. So much so, that at one time Steven asked me in a soft voice if I was alright.

"Yes," I told him, fingering the tiny ring. We dropped Nancy off at her house. She gave Evan a quick kiss, and he waited until she was inside,

and then he began the drive to our house. Once there, the three of us got out of Evan's truck, and he said, to me, "Don't be long out here." To Steven he said,

"See ya, Steve."

"See you, Evan," Steven said.

We watched Evan go into the house, and then I turned to look at Steven.

"I'm glad you came along tonight," I said.

"Thanks for asking me. I had fun."

He asked me what I'd been smiling about at the pizza place, and I was honest, and told him it was because

I wasn't worried about being a dainty eater, or having him think I was eating too much.

"That's cool," he said.

"Want to sit awhile?" I asked him, gesturing to the porch swing.

"Sure."

So we sat in the swing, pointing out stars to each other. After a time, he surprised me by asking, "So what's up with the

guy? Eddie?"

I looked at him, unable to make out his entire profile in the darkness.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Come on, Harlie," he said, and it sounded as though he was amused.

I was suddenly panic-stricken. Had it been that obvious how I felt about Eddie? What if everybody had

noticed?

"Could you tell?" I asked, embarrassed, and dreading his answer.

"That he likes you? Sure, I could tell."

For a moment, I was startled. "Huh?"

"What?" he asked, confused.

"What makes you say that? That he likes me? I thought you meant that I was being too obvious about how I feel."

"Oh. No, I don't think you were obvious, or anything like that." He hesitated. "Is that the guy that you like?"

Now I was really confused. "What?"

"Well, I mean, I knew there was somebody that you were interested in. I just didn't know who it was."

"How did you know that?" I asked. "I never said anything."

"No. I guess it's just something I sort of knew. So, is he the one?"

"Yeah," I admitted.

"Well, he likes you, so how come you're not going out with him?"

"What makes you think he likes me?" I asked, curiously.

"I don't know. It's how he looks at you, I guess."

For a moment, I wanted Steven to be correct. I wanted it more than anything. But then I tried to temper down my

excitement. I mean, I knew that Eddie liked me. He was nice to me, and he sometimes flirted a little. But I hadn't thought

about him feeling more than that. Not after what had happened last year, with Evan and how I'd acted at that party, and all of that.

I figured that he had most likely lost interest in me, and was in agreement with my brothers that I was too young for him.

"So, how come you're not dating him?" Steven asked again.

"Evan and Ford thought he was too old for me to go out with," I said. "So they warned him off. We had a really big argument

about it. Then I acted stupid in front of Eddie, and he said something about them being right. So..."

"Oh, man," Steven said, in sympathy.

"Yeah," I said, and after that we were both quiet for awhile.

I could hear somebody moving around inside, coming from the living room, the sound of voices and footsteps.

"I better get in," I said.

"Sure. I need to get home, too," he said. "Call me if you can hang out tomorrow or over the weekend."

I said I would, and then I went inside, closing the door, as the lights of his truck started down the driveway.

The voices that I'd heard had been Evan and Guthrie, and the sound of the television. Guthrie was sprawled on the

couch, watching an old western.

Evan had a glass of milk in his hand, coming from the kitchen.

"Don't forget your shot and stuff," he reminded me.

"I won't."

"Okay. Night," Evan said, heading towards the stairs. "Hey," he remembered, "Better leave the porch light on for

Ford."

"Okay," I said, reaching over to switch on the light. "Goodnight, Ev."

"Night."

I headed to the kitchen, where I poured a glass of milk for myself, and then took care of my diabetes shot. I turned off the

kitchen light and went back towards the living room. I could have gone up the back steps to my bedroom, but I was seriously

considering talking to Guthrie. Or trying to. I knew that I'd be able to sleep a whole lot better if I was able to talk to

him. After a moment's thought, I turned and went back to the kitchen, pouring a second glass of milk.

So I went into the living room, carrying both glasses. I went over to the end of the couch, and when I'd stood there for

a couple of seconds, Guthrie flicked a glance over to me.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I returned.

I leaned over a little to hand him the glass of milk that I'd poured for him.

"Here," I said simply.

Guthrie half-sat up, taking the glass from me. "Thanks."

"Uh huh," I said, as he took a long drink and then set the glass on the coffee table, laying back down and turning his

attention to the movie.

"What movie is this?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"High Plains Drifter," Guthrie answered.

"Mmm," I said, and stood there for a couple of minutes, watching.

"How was your night?" Guthrie asked, his gaze still on the television screen.

"Good," I said. "Fun."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Quiet again.

"We went bowling," I offered. "And then we went to get pizza."

"Mmm," Guthrie said.

After another moment, I asked, "What did you do?"

"Nothin'. Just hung out here."

"Oh." I gestured to the end of the couch, where Guthrie's feet were resting. "Okay if I watch with you for

awhile?"

In answer, Guthrie moved his feet, so that there was room for me to sit down.

7


	27. A prickly Guthrie

I ended up falling asleep on my end of the couch, before the movie was anywhere near being over. Guthrie gave me a shake, as he

turned off the television.

"Har," he said, and I jerked awake.

"Movie's over," Guthrie said.

"Oh," I said, feeling groggy, and sitting up straight.

Guthrie was turning off the lights, except for the lamp that was left on for Ford to see by.

We went up the stairs together, and almost in a casual way, Guthrie said, "I'm goin' out with Kenny tomorrow."

I paused at the top of the stairs to look at him. "You are?"

"Yep." Guthrie regarded me with an expression that seemed almost challenging.

I wanted to ask what he had planned, but instead I said, trying to sound casual, "Be careful."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Guthrie demanded, not quietly.

I blinked, still feeling a bit groggy from dozing off. "What?"

"When you say 'be careful' like that, what do ya mean by it?"

"I don't mean anything. Good grief, Guthrie."

"I've been with Kenny a million other times, and you've never said that," he accused.

"So?" I asked, starting to get irritated at him. "This time I said it. What about it?"

"I just wanna know why you're sayin it. That's all," he said.

"Shhh," I shushed him. "You're going to wake everybody up."

Guthrie regarded me with an almost angry expression. "So, just tell me. You still thinkin' all that crazy stuff about

Kenny? That's why you're tellin' me to be careful like that?"

"Be quiet," I hissed.

"Should have known," he said, a little quieter.

"Should have known what?" I demanded, in a louder hiss.

Guthrie said nothing, only shaking his head at me, in a way that caused me vast irritation at that moment. It was as though he

looked, well, 'lofty', I guess is the word. Like a know-it-all.

I should have gone to my bedroom, and just put a stop to the conversation that way. Instead, I said, "I'm telling you to be

careful when you're with Kenny. There's nothing at all wrong with me saying that to you. You're just itching for a fight, that's all."

"Well, maybe I don't like your attitude," Guthrie said.

"My attitude?!" I demanded, and forgot to whisper. "You're the one who has the attitude!"

"If I do, it's because you're accusing one of the best friends I have of somethin' that he has no part of," Guthrie said.

"He does, Guthrie. He does have a part in it," I said stubbornly, and just then we heard a door opening down the hall,

and both turned, sort of guiltily, to see Crane, coming out of his bedroom. He was wearing sweatpants, and was bare-chested, and his

hair was all sleep-messed.

"What's going on?" he demanded, and when neither Guthrie or I spoke up right away, he came on down the hall towards us.

"What is going on?" he asked, for the second time, and his tone was more irritated.

"Sorry we woke you up," I said.

"I'm sorry, too," Crane said, sounding curt. He looked at me more closely. "Are you just now getting home, Harlie?"

"No," I said. "I came home with Evan awhile ago. I was watching television."

"Oh," Crane said, and looked from me to Guthrie, and then back again. "What's the argument about, and why are you

having it at this time of night?"

Guthrie looked stubborn, and was silent.

"It's nothing, Crane," I said. "We're sorry we were so loud."

I looked at him pleadingly, hopeful that he would drop it. I let out a big sigh of relief when he said, "Alright." He turned to go

back down the hall, pausing at his own door, to look back at Guthrie and I.

"You're both lucky that I'm too tired to pursue this," he said, darkly. "Go to bed. Both of you."

And with that, he went into the room, and closed the door.

I took a look at Guthrie. He shook his head at me again, as if to say that I was the one causing the problem, and went

towards his own bedroom.

I said, from the protection of my own doorway, in a loud whisper, to Guthrie's retreating back,

"You should listen, and be careful!"

And then I shut my door, really quickly, waiting for a couple of moments, my heart sort of pounding. I half expected Guthrie to charge

back down the hall, and bust into my room, to continue the argument. And that, I knew, would be very, very bad. Crane wasn't

kidding. He'd meant what he said.

But there was no sign, or sound of Guthrie thundering down the hall to tell me off. I had to admit, I was relieved by that.

7

I was tired the next morning, when I was woken up by a tapping on my door. I groaned, and covered my head under my

quilt. Another knock.

"Harlie? You up?" said a voice.

"Ugh," I said, but not loud enough, because my door opened just a bit.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up. Time for breakfast."

I raised the quilt to peer out from under it. "I know girls that get to sleep till noon if they want to," I said.

"And then get their nails done?" Brian asked, with humor.

"Yeah. And then spend the day at the mall shopping," I continued.

"Since when do you want to shop all day at the mall, anyway?" he pointed out.

"Well, I wouldn't need that part of it," I admitted. "But the sleeping part would be nice sometimes."

"Maybe so. But not for you. Not today," Brian said, and jerked his thumb in an 'up-wards' way. "So rise and shine. Move it."

When I got down to breakfast, it was to find the rest of the family mostly already assembled at the table, with only Daniel

missing. I slid into my chair, fielding the morning greetings coming my way.

"How was your evening?" Hannah asked me, pushing the plate of cantaloupe over closer so that I could reach it. "Evan says you

went bowling."

"It was fun," I told her. "I got two strikes, and a spare."

"Good for you," Hannah said.

"Hope you can stay awake today," Brian said, looking across the table at Ford. "Stayin' out most of the night, huh?"

"Not the entire night," Ford said, with good nature, spearing a piece of sausage with his fork.

"How does Valerie's dad feel about her being out so late?" Adam asked, from his end of the table.

"I stayed over there for awhile when I took her home," Ford said. "He was still up. We sat and talked."

"Never hurts to get on the good side of the father," Evan said, with a sideways grin at Ford.

"Just what I thought," Ford said, pouring syrup over his waffles.

I chanced a glance at Guthrie, to my right. He was intent on eating his breakfast, and I gave him a tiny nudge in his ribs.

I didn't want to argue with Guthrie. At least in the light of day, I didn't.

Guthrie ignored my nudge, and so I did it again.

"Knock it off," Guthrie said.

"Good grief," I muttered. "Grouch."

After that, discussion began on what needed done that day, and who was going to do what.

"I thought we could work on finishing up with canning the pears," Hannah said, looking my way.

"Ugh," I couldn't help the groan that escaped.

I, at that particular moment, couldn't think of anything worse to do on a hot day than can pears.

"It won't be so bad," she said, looking amused.

I would much rather have been sent out to help with an outdoor job. At least on horseback, it would be outside, and there'd

be somewhat of a breeze. But I knew that Hannah needed my help. Clare was at breakfast, but she acted 'peckish' lately.

I had my own suspicions about her recent tiredness, and the pale color of her cheeks at times.

When it was time to clear the table and stack the dishes to be washed, I heard Guthrie talking to Brian, as he refilled his

cup of coffee.

"It'd be after I was done with my chores," Guthrie was saying.

He must be talking about his meet-up with Kenny, I thought. I edged closer to listen.

"Alright," Brian was saying. "But don't be late tonight. We've got to hit it hard in the morning."

Guthrie nodded, and went on outside, following Evan and Ford.

I worked alongside of Hannah for the next few hours, taking care of the baskets of pears that had been picked from

our fruit trees. Clare helped too, in between doing laundry, and then making a big pot of hamburger stew for lunch.

Isaac was our companion, sitting in his bouncer on the floor near us, doing his happy baby babble.

"I can't believe how much he's grown lately," Clare said, pausing at one point to bend over Isaac, and run her finger

down his cheek.

"He has a doctor's appointment tomorrow," Hannah said. "He needs some new clothes, too. I was hoping to find a couple of

garage sales around town that were selling baby clothes."

"Good idea," Clare said. "I got asked to work a shift tomorrow at the hospital."

"Are you going to?" Hannah asked.

"Brian told me he'd rather that I didn't. But it might turn into a couple more shifts this week. The money would come in

handy," Clare said.

"Mmm," Hannah said, and I wondered what she was thinking. If Clare was pregnant, as I suspected that she might be,

that would explain Brian's reluctance to let her go work a 12 hour shift. Sometimes her 12-hour shifts had, in the past, turned

into 15 hour ones, when another nurse called in.

After we were nearly done, and were tightening the lids on the jars, and wiping the sticky mess from the table, Hannah

asked me what I thought of Valerie.

I hesitated. I already had one brother angry with me for stating my beliefs about his friend. I didn't want Ford to get upset

because I said anything uncomplimentary about Valerie. Not that I, in any way, would say anything about Valerie compared to

what I'd said about Kenny. But, still. I decided to be cautious, and keep my reservations about Valerie to myself.

"She seems alright," I said vaguely.

"Is she outgoing, or quiet?" Clare asked, picking Isaac up from his bouncer seat.

"Sort of quiet," I said.

"Do you think Ford's serious about her?" Hannah asked, with her concerned "mom-face" on.

"I don't know. I can't really tell," I said, in honesty. "Probably he's talked to Evan about it."

"Probably so," Hannah agreed.

"She seems to like Ford," I added. "At least it seems that way."

"I hope she's a nice girl," Hannah said, almost to herself. "I don't want to see Ford get hurt."

As everybody started trooping into the house, ready for lunch, we set out some bowls, and put the bread basket in the

center of the table.

I ate quietly, trying to gauge Guthrie's mood. He didn't seem as irritable as he had been at breakfast time. Probably, I thought dourly,

it was because he was thinking about his afternoon of hanging out with Kenny.

When Hannah questioned him, I was glad, and made sure that I listened.

"What are you going to do?" Hannah asked him.

"Ride four-wheelers at Trent's for awhile," Guthrie said. "Maybe do some fishin'."

When lunch was over, and everybody started back to their respective chores, Hannah told me to go, that I

could have a free afternoon.

I went to pull on my boots, which would look funny to a girl from the city, paired as they were with the shorts I was

wearing. But another ranch female would understand totally. It was too hot for jeans, and boots are essential for riding.

As I stepped out the back door, I was bundling my hair up under a ball cap. I paused beside the group standing there,

talking.

"We could take care of it today," Evan was saying.

"That would help," Brian said.

"We could get it done, don't you think so, Ford?" Evan asked, looking at Ford.

"Don't see why not," Ford said, biting into an apple.

"Where's Daniel?" Evan asked. "He lit out of here this mornin' early. He could help."

"He had somethin' he needed to do," Crane said. "He'll be back late."

"Well, Guthrie's got his mind on other things," Evan said. "He won't be any help. He wants to leave pretty soon, anyway."

"I can help," I volunteered.

Brian looked down at me, amused. "You don't even know what we're talkin' about, peach."

I shrugged. "I bet I can help, though."

"I don't think Harlie ought to be up there," Evan said. "I won't be able to watch her."

"Up where?" I demanded. "And what do you mean, watch me? I'm not five years old, for Pete's sake."

"That's right. You're six years old now, right?" Evan said.

"So funny," I said, rolling my eyes at him. Then again, I said, "I can help with whatever it is. I can pull my own weight."

Brian ran his hand over my head. "Take peach with you," he told Evan. "Put her to work."

"Ha!" I said, to Evan, triumphantly.

"Ha, yourself," Evan replied. "You can come, but you have to listen to me. Alright?"

"I always listen to you, Ev," I said. "To every single word that comes out of your mouth."

Brian chuckled a little. "Go change your clothes," he told me. "Put on some jeans."

"In this heat?" I asked.

"If you want to go with the boys, then yeah," he said.

I went up to put on my jeans, and then went back downstairs, taking an apple from the bowl in the center of the table.

I'd figured that we were riding somewhere on horseback, and that I would tuck the apple in my saddlebags for a snack later.

But no horses were being saddled. Evan and Ford were loading the Jeep with tools, and a water thermos. And as always, the ever-present

rifle.

7


	28. Expanding adventures

Instead of going out the usual way, thru the pasture past the corral, Evan drove the Jeep towards the back

of the house. We don't often go that way, because the trails going up there aren't that great, and are difficult to manage if you're

not on horseback.

We bounced along for awhile, thru the trails that were filled with ruts. I was in the back seat, while Ford was up front with Evan.

I tugged my hat down on my head to keep it from blowing off. It was so hot that it felt as though what breeze there was slapped my face. I leaned

forward in the seat.

"You're bouncing me up to the sky back here," I told Evan, giving his shoulder a shove. "With your crazy driving."

"Yeah?" Evan said, and purposely hit a rut that was so big it shook the entire jeep. And then he turned, giving me a grin.

I poked him again, but I grinned back. I felt my heart squeeze a little. Evan and I were solid again. Maybe even stronger than before. We'd

hit a rough patch, but found our way back.

"What do we have to do?" I asked them.

"Gonna cut up a couple trees that fell on the fence up here," Ford said.

"Oh," I said, realizing for the first time that there were two chainsaws underneath a tarp behind me.

After that they started talking about the annual Fourth of July celebration that was coming up the next week in Murphys. I drifted into my own

thoughts for awhile, wondering if Eddie might be at the street dance.

When we reached the spot where a tree had blown into the fence, Evan parked and we all got out, standing for a moment

to survey the damage. The tree was half-standing, half-broken, and to me it looked precarious, as if the part that was hanging

over the fence might fall completely at any time.

"It's barely hanging, isn't it?" I asked.

"It'll still take some cutting to get it down," Evan said.

And so they began, Evan cutting the bigger part of the tree, and then Ford cutting up those pieces into smaller sticks of wood.

I cleared the brush that I could while they were cutting, and then I went to stand beside Evan, waiting until he paused, and then

raising my voice over the sound of the chainsaw.

"Do you want me to stack the wood?" I said, nearly yelling.

"Yeah. Just the small stuff. Leave the bigger pieces for us," he said, just as loudly. And, as I started to turn around, he said,

"Hey!"

I turned back.

"Get some gloves on!" he hollered.

I nodded, but stopped on my way to the Jeep to pick up a couple of pieces to start my pile. After that, I decided I didn't need the gloves

so much. So I worked, lifting and tugging, and stacking the pieces that I could manage to lift.

After about an hour or so, they both shut their chainsaws down, and came over to sit on a couple of the really big pieces, turned

upwards to serve as a seat. Ford had gone to get the water thermos from the Jeep, and they called to me to come over, too.

"Just a second," I said, and finished stacking the two pieces in my arms. I walked over to join them, brushing my hands against

my jeans. I'd gotten a splinter in one of my fingers. I could feel it.

Ford pulled water into the cup of the thermos and handed it off to me. He and Evan both looked wrung out, and were covered

in sweat.

"Whoo," Ford said, letting out a big breath.

"It's a big job," Evan said, wiping an arm over his forehead, and then putting his hat back on.

"What are we going to do with all of the wood?" I asked, gesturing towards my orderly stack.

"We can use some of it for a bonfire, when we have a party some time," Ford said.

"Maybe we could sell some of it," I suggested.

"We'll figure somethin' out," Evan said. He stood up, stretching, and looking at the wood I'd piled up.

"I do believe that's the neatest stack of wood I've ever seen," he said, and then grinned at me.

"Well, of course," I said.

"Just toss it in a pile," Ford said. "You don't have to work so hard."

I wiped my hand on my jeans again.

"Back to it," Evan said, and Ford sighed, standing up.

I finished the water in my cup, and set it back beside the thermos on the ground.

"Where's your gloves?" Evan asked me.

"Over there," I said, vaguely, letting him think I meant beside where I'd been working. He would chew me out majorly if he knew

I hadn't worn gloves all this time. Once they were back at their chainsaws, roaring and cutting, I went to the Jeep, and found a pair

of work gloves under all the other stuff in the back.

I pulled them on, and went back to work. We worked another couple of hours. The pieces were bigger by now, down at the base of the

tree, and so I rolled them instead of lifting.

I heard Evan hollering at me, saying, "Leave those!"

So I left them, pulling off my gloves, and going to sit in the Jeep, and eat my apple. My hands were aching, and when I gave them

a closer look, I saw I had not one splinter, but two, and that there were blisters raised on my palms. I looked at them wryly, thinking

that I should have listened about the gloves. I'd put them on a bit too late.

My back was aching from all that lifting and toting. I knew that Evan and Ford had to be aching, too.

Still, it was good to be outdoors. I still thought about the cold of Nashville every once in awhile.

When the tree had been cut, and trimmed, until all that was left was a stump, the boys went to look at the damage

that had been done when it blew onto the fence. I walked over to stand beside them.

"Want to try to do it today?" Ford asked.

"We could fix it up, temporary," Evan said. "You okay to do it?"

"Yeah. Let's do it now. I've got work tomorrow at the print shop," Ford said.

I went to the Jeep to retrieve the fencing supplies, following Ford as he carried the roll of wire. After that I helped as much as I could,

handing out tools, and holding wire while they snipped it, and all of that.

Once we were done, we loaded everything back up, and started back towards home. As we came upon a twisting trail, I pointed up.

"Where does that go?" I asked, curiously.

"If I remember right, there's an old homestead up there," Evan said.

"With the house still there?" I asked, intrigued.

"I don't know. It's been years since I was up there."

"Can we go?" I asked.

"Aw, not today," Evan said.

"Oh," I said disappointed.

"Yeah. I'd kind of like to see it myself," Ford said.

I gave Ford a smile for his support. "That's okay, Ford," I said. "Evan's getting older. He doesn't have the energy he used to have."

"Right," Ford said.

"Besides, it looks pretty steep," I went on. "I doubt if he could drive the Jeep up there, huh, Ford?"

"Probably not," Ford said, going along with the prodding. "We'll have to come back up when I'm doin' the driving, Har."

We were both grinning at Evan, challenging him, and he said, "I can outdrive you any day, little brother, and you know it."

"Talk, talk, talk," Ford teased.

"Yeah. No nerve," I said.

"No nerve," Ford echoed.

So, then, with a look at both Ford and I, and then a swift turn that was so sudden that I slid across the back seat, we

were headed up that steep slope. I regained my balance, laughing. And steep it was. The Jeep was almost nearly vertical a couple of

times, it seemed to me. I began to wish I hadn't teased Evan.

"Damn," I heard Ford mutter at one point.

We reached a flatter point eventually, but it was rough going there too, with the ruts, and barely any trail at all. I felt, rather than heard,

one of the tires blow, and the Jeep veer sharply to one side.

Evan stopped immediately. He had no choice, really. It was such a sudden stop that Ford put out his hand to catch himself from falling forward, and

I nearly propelled onto the floor of the Jeep.

Evan got out, and began to swear. Ford climbed out, too, and the two of them crouched down beside the Jeep, looking under it.

I stepped down, getting my bearings back.

"The tire's shot," Ford said.

"If that's all, I'll be happy," Evan said, and laid on his back, scooting underneath.

"How bad?" Ford asked him, on his knees and looking under, as well.

More swearing. "I think the suspension spring broke," Evan said.

He slid out from underneath, sitting there for a moment. I felt so bad for him. I'd started all of this nonsense.

"I'm sorry, Ev," I said.

"Aw, don't be crazy," Evan said, wiping his hands on his jeans, and standing up. "It's my fault. I should have known better."

"What are we gonna do?" I asked.

"Nothin' to do, except start walking," Evan said. "We'll have to come back and tow it in. I don't want to try drivin' it that far."

"How far are we from home?" I asked.

"A good seven or eight miles," Evan said.

"Oh," I said, feeling daunted.

"It's got to be close to noon by now," Ford said.

"Yeah. At least," Evan agreed.

Since none of us was wearing a watch, it was only a guess. But my stomach was rumbling, so I knew that it

had to be close.

"You're gonna need to eat somethin' soon," Evan said, looking at me with a concerned frown.

"I did. I had an apple. I'm okay," I assured him.

"Look in the glove compartment. Maybe there's somethin' in there," Ford suggested.

I reached in and opened the compartment. Papers fell out. A wrench. A pack of Dentyne gum. A can of Skoal that felt

nearly empty. And a lone package of Oreo cookies, with about five cookies left.

"Grab the cookies," Ford said. So I did.

Other than the thermos of water, and the first aid bag, and the rifle, we left everything else, And we started back down the steep incline on foot. You'd think it

would be easy going down like that, but it wasn't really. Ford was in front, and I was in the middle, with Evan in back. A couple of times

it was so steep and rocky that we had to step carefully.

"Good place for a goat," Ford muttered.

"Why would somebody want to build a house up that far, anyway?" I asked, but neither of them answered. We were concentrating on

getting down. At one point, I slipped, and went down, rolling a ways, while Evan hurried to catch up, and Ford climbed back up to me.

"You alright?" Ford asked, leaning over me.

"Uh huh," I managed, breathlessly. The fall had made the blisters on my hands open. They were stinging, and I knew they had to have

dirt in them, but I didn't pause to examine them.

"Here," Ford said, holding out a hand to me, and bracing himself on the incline to help pull me up.

I took his hand, but sat there a moment longer, looking upwards at them both. "Someday," I said, "This is gonna be a funny story."

"Not anytime soon, it's not," Evan said, in disagreement.

Once I was standing upright again, we stood still for a moment, looking back up at the Jeep, and then downwards, at the amount of hill

left to descend.

"I ought to have my head examined," Evan muttered. "What the hell was I thinking?"

"It'll be alright," Ford said.

"Yes," I added, in support.

Evan shook his head a little. "Well, let's get goin' again," he said, with a gesture downwards. So Ford got back in front, Evan behind, and

me in the middle, and we trekked on.

By the time we made it down, we were all winded.

We rested a couple of minutes, and took a drink. I didn't want to say anything, but I was starting to get a headache, which was

generally a sign that I needed to eat something. I didn't want to say anything to make Evan feel any worse, though, so I just asked

Ford to give me a couple of cookies.

"I've got some peanut butter crackers in my pocket," Ford said. "Want a couple of them instead?"

"No, these are okay."

So, we walked on, but beside each other now. It seemed as though we'd been walking for a really long time. I slowed down a little

until I was lagging behind. But just a bit.

Enough, though, for the boys to notice. They stopped their walking, to turn to look back at me.

"Are you comin'?" Ford asked.

"Yes, I'm coming," I said.

When I reached them, they were both surveying me with concerned expressions.

"Let's sit down and rest awhile," Evan said, and motioned towards the shade of a big tree.

"Sounds good to me," Ford said, and promptly went to flop down on the grass under the tree.

When Evan and I were sitting down, Ford, who was munching on a cookie, held out the package to Evan. Evan shook his

head in refusal. "No, thanks," he said.

"There's only one left," Ford said.

"Go on and eat it," Evan told him.

We passed the water around again, and Ford took the crumpled package of peanut butter crackers from his shirt pocket.

"Here, Har," he said, holding it out to me.

I took one out and ate it. "Put the rest in your pocket for later," Ford said.

The sun passed behind a cloud, and we all looked up at the sky.

"Is it supposed to rain today?" Ford asked.

"I didn't hear any weather," Evan said, and I shrugged my shoulders in answer.

"I hope it rains," I said.

We sat in silence for a few minutes after that. I leaned back against the tree beside Ford, while Evan sat with his legs stretched out in

front. He looked as though he was thinking hard about something. I knew he was mentally kicking himself for being the cause of us being

stranded.

"Have we walked very far?" I asked.

"A mile maybe," Ford said.

"Is that all?" I asked, trying not to show my disappointment.

It felt so good to just sit there, and rest. My back ached from lifting all the wood, and now I was tired from walking, too. And my hands

were stinging.

"Let's get going," Evan said, after what seemed like just a few moments. "They're gonna be getting worried about us at home."

I got up sort of gingerly, trying not to let my hands touch the ground.

We walked on, and the sky grew gradually darker. There was more air stirring about, but it was still a hot air.

"I wouldn't mind rain, if it would cool things off a little," Ford said, swiping at sweat across his forehead.

Neither Evan or I answered him. I was trying to focus on walking, and push past the increasing throbbing in my head.

Finally, I knew I had to say something.

"Fordie," I said, pausing in my walking. "Is there Tylenol in the first aid kit?"

Ford stopped immediately, with a frown. "I think there is. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a little bit of a headache," I said, trying to sound casual.

He dug into the bag that he had slung over one shoulder, taking out a bottle of Tylenol. He uncapped it,

and I held my hand up, letting him shake two out. I swallowed them with a drink from the thermos, as Evan came walking

back towards us.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Harlie has a headache," Ford said, quietly, sounding serious.

"Oh," Evan said, and stood there, looking at me. I could practically see the wheels of concern turning in both of their

heads at that point.

"I took some Tylenol. I'll be fine," I said, trying to sound perky.

Neither one of them looked particularly convinced, so I started walking energetically, calling back to them, "Come on!"

It wasn't long after that when I was fairly certain that I felt a raindrop hit my cheek. After that they began to fall quicker

and heavier. The clouds were rolling, and we all paused for a moment to look at them.

"Walk on?" Evan asked Ford and I.

"I say yes," Ford said. "It's just a little rain."

So we walked on, but the rain got steadily heavier, and the sky darker.

"It's really setting in," Ford said, as we paused under a tree.

"Yeah. We ought to find a place to wait it out," Evan said. "I've got an idea," he said, and we followed him as he walked on, a lot

faster than before.

Evan stopped so suddenly, and I was nearly walked into his back. I'd been concentrating on him being in front of me, so I was

surprised that he stopped like that.

"Here," he said, and I felt him take my arm and give me a pull. In the next moment, I was in near darkness, but somewhere that the

rain wasn't pelting me. I could feel Ford's shoulder beside me, and a coldness behind. I could make out their faces, but just barely.

I heard rustling and then a match flickered. "Look in that first aid bag, Ford. Is there a flashlight?" Evan asked.

He held the match over towards Ford, and it flickered as Ford felt thru the bag. "Yeah. I saw one in here earlier."

A moment later, there was the light of a flashlight shining, and Evan blew out the match.

I looked around, but all I could see was a small opening, about the size of a doorway, and then some walls. I touched to my left without

meaning to, and felt cold. Like concrete. Only slicker.

"What is this place?" I asked.

7


	29. Serpents beware

"It's a shelter," Evan said. "Like a root cellar. There's stairs right near goin' down, so step careful. Don't go too far to the right."

"Somebody built it?" I asked, peering around in the semi-darkness.

"Yeah. Probably a long time ago. To store their vegetables and keep stuff cold."

"Oh," I said, and felt an eiree feeling slide down my back. I shuddered. A shudder which Ford felt, from standing so near to

me, and which he mistook for me being cold.

I was sort of cold, but the shudder was for the darkness of this cellar, or whatever it was, and the fact that there might be snakes

lurking about.

"You're cold," Ford said, in statement rather than in question.

"Not too bad," I said, and then admitted the rest. "I was just thinking of snakes."

"Don't worry about it," Evan said carelessly. A statement in which I found no reassurance at all.

"There might be some candles still here," Evan said. "I'll be right back." He took the flashlight from Ford, and went down

the stairs that he'd just warned us about.

Ford and I stood there, in the darkness, watching out the doorway as the rain fell from the darkened sky.

"Hannah's gonna be worried," I said.

"Yeah."

"What time do you think it is?" I asked.

"Two maybe. Or three."

"How did Evan know about this place?" I asked.

"Must have been one of his and Daniel's hideouts."

It seemed as though Evan had been gone longer than a few minutes.

"Evan!" I called, in the direction of the steps, feeling nervous.

"Hang on!" he called back.

Finally, there was the light of the flashlight shining its way back up to us.

"I found a couple candles down there and lit them," Evan said, pausing midway on the steps. "Come down here."

Ford made a move forward, but I was in his way, so he gave me a small push. "Go, Har," he said.

"You go on," I said, and Ford, who obviously thought that I meant to follow right behind, stepped around me

and headed down. They were both at the foot of the few steps, and turned the flashlight back so that I could see

where to put my feet.

I stayed right where I was, my arms crossed in an effort to warm up.

"Come on," Evan said, a little impatiently.

"I'll stay here," I said.

"What?" he demanded, shining the flashlight over my face.

"I'll stay here," I repeated.

"No, you won't. Come on."

"I don't want to," I said. I couldn't explain it, but I felt unnerved at the thought of descending into that cellar.

"Why not?" Evan asked, sounding irritated.

"I just don't," I said. "It gives me the creeps. I'm fine right here."

"Harlie. It's perfectly safe. Come on."

Just then a gust of wind brought more rain into the open doorway, and onto me. Enough that Evan felt it too, because he said,

"See? You're gonna get even more wet up there. Now, come on."

"I'd rather be wet than come down there," I insisted.

"Har," Ford coaxed. "It's alright."

"Go on. Think I'm just a stupid female who's afraid of her own shadow," I said, defensively. "I don't care."

Evan came up a few stairs. "Harlie. I'm not kidding. Now, take my hand," he ordered.

I sighed. I wasn't going to win this argument. I reached out to take his hand, and edged down those steps. When I was there,

standing at the bottom, I was greeted by a room that was bigger than I expected.

There were a couple of benches, jars filled with stuff up on shelves, and a rickety looking table, where a couple of candles

were burning. They were giving out a surprising amount of light. I gave a quick look around, to convince myself there were no

snakes curled up somewhere.

"See?" Evan said, dropping my hand. "Home Sweet Home."

"If you say so," I replied darkly.

He went to the shelves, moving stuff around, as if he was hunting for something.

Ford sat down on one of the benches. He reached over to grab at my hand. "Sit down," he said, pulling on me.

"Ow," I said, wincing as his fingers brushed the blisters.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I said, pulling my hand loose.

"You've been favoring your hand all afternoon. What's the matter with it?" Ford demanded.

"I got a splinter or something," I said vaguely.

"Let me see," he said.

"Ford-" I protested.

"Come on. Quit bein' so stubborn. Let me see."

I sighed, and sat down beside him, as he held my hand up into the light of the candle to see it better.

"A splinter, huh?" he said wryly, and took a look at my other hand, too. "More than a splinter, Har."

I shrugged.

"What's wrong?" Evan said, pausing to look our way.

"She's got blisters," Ford said.

"Tattletale," I accused him.

Evan came over and took my hands in his, taking his own look.

"This happen today?" he demanded.

I just looked upwards at him, the light of the candle flickering over the walls.

He went to grab the first aid bag off of the old table.

"Rinse them off first," Ford said. "Hold your hands out," he told me, and I sighed, obediently holding my hands out, palms up, as he

poured water over them.

Evan was digging thru the first aid bag. "Are they popped?" he asked.

"Naw," Ford said. "Not yet."

"Just put some of this on them, then?" Evan asked, holding up a tube of antibiotic ointment.

"Yeah. And then a bandage, to clean 'em clean," Ford said.

As they worked over my hands, I winced as Ford dabbed on the ointment.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm tryin' to be gentle."

"It's fine," I said.

"Did I not tell you to wear gloves?" Evan demanded, sounding as though he was an eight on a scale of ten. "This is why."

"Yes, Ev, you told me," I said with a sigh, and a roll of my eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" he asked.

"Good grief," I muttered. "How can you see that in here? There's enough light for that?"

"Yeah. There's enough light for that," he repeated.

"I should have worn gloves. You don't have to say 'I told you so'," I said.

"Fine," he muttered, handing the bag off to Ford. "But I did tell you."

He went back over to the shelves, and back to moving things around, searching.

Ford met my eyes, and gave me a half-grin. "You two," he said, with a shake of his head.

He took out some gauze, and wrapped it around my right hand, crossing between my thumb and index finger, and across my palm, and

then put a piece of first aid tape on it.

"I think a bandaid is enough for this one," he said, and placed a couple of bandaids on my left hand. After that, he got up to hold a pair

of tweezers from the bag over the flame of the candle.

Coming back, he rubbed his hands together, as if plotting something.

"Now for the splinters," he said.

"Let's just wait on those," I said, pulling my hands nearer to my lap.

"Nope. Let's go. Palm up," he ordered.

I sighed, and did what he said. I remained staunch, determined not to pull back from his tugging and poking with those tweezers.

At one point, I accused, "You're enjoying this way too much," and Ford laughed.

"There you go," he said, putting supplies back into the first aid bag. "Surgery is complete."

"Thank you, Doctor," I said, humorously.

"I'll send you a bill."

I stood up, stretching a little, and looking up the stairs, where I could hear the rain still coming down.

Suddenly, I was grateful for our little candle-lit cellar room. It really was much better than being out in that storm.

Evan was still moving jars on the shelves, and I asked him what he was looking for.

"Lookin' at these jars, seeing if there's any peaches or something," he told me.

"You mean to eat?" I asked, horrified at the thought.

"Of course to eat," he said.

"I'm not eating anything from off of those shelves," I said, in determination. This was not like coming down the stairs earlier. This was

not an argument that I was going to lose.

Evan didn't answer that, he just kept scooting jars around, every once in a while stopping to peer at one in the candlelight.

"That stuff's probably a hundred years old," I went on.

"Oh, it is not," Evan denied.

"Well, I'm not gonna," I went on. "So don't even ask me to."

"If it's done properly, canned food can stay good for years," Ford said, from his position on the bench.

"Well, we don't know if any of this stuff was done properly, though, do we?" I pointed out, reasonably I thought.

After a few more minutes, Evan gave up his search on the shelves. Whether from being convinced by my objections, or another reason,

I wasn't sure. So I asked.

"Don't see any fruit," Evan said. "Some canned meat, I think."

"Yuck," I said. That was even more of a disturbing thought than the fruit Evan had talked about.

After that, I sat back down beside Ford, while Evan stood at the foot of the stairs, looking upward. At one point, Evan heaved a heavy sigh.

"Damn it," he said.

Ford and I exchanged a look. We both knew where Evan's frustration was coming from.

"It's alright, Ev," Ford said quietly. "Don't beat yourself up about it."

Evan didn't answer, only shaking his head in response.

"Did we cover the chain saws good?" he asked, looking at Ford with a sudden thought of concern. "With the tarp?"

"Covered totally," Ford said.

"Okay. Good," Evan said, sounding relieved.

He came to sit on the other side of me. "How's your headache?" he asked me.

"It's gone."

"Where's those peanut butter crackers?" he asked.

I pulled the package from my shirt pocket, and held them out to him. "Here."

"Eat them," he said.

"You haven't had anything since breakfast," I protested.

"It's alright. You eat them. You need some protein."

"I'm really alright, Ev," I began.

"Harlie," he said, and his voice was firm. "Eat them."

So I did, choking down the three remaining crackers, and following them up with a swig of the water.

After that we were all three quiet for a while. Finally, I spoke up. "How did you know about this place?"

"Daniel and I found it one summer," Evan said. "We even camped up here a couple of times."

"Who built it? And left all that stuff on the shelves?" I asked then.

"Somebody who owned this land a long time ago, most likely," Evan said.

"You guys got to have all the adventures," I said, in mild complaint. "Camping up here, and watching the wild Mustangs, and all of that

stuff."

"I never got to see the Mustangs, either," Ford reminded me.

"You should," I told him. "It's amazing."

"Oh yeah," Evan spoke up dryly, "We got to have all the great adventures. The main one was when we had to take three babies everywhere we went. Now that

was really a fun time," he finished, with sarcasm.

"Hey," Ford objected, "Don't be clumping me in on that baby stuff. And if I remember it right, most of the time I was the one carrying one or the other

of them."

"Humph," Evan said.

"I'm sitting right here, you know," I reminded them wryly. "Don't talk about me like I'm not even here."

Ford chuckled a little, and then stood up, stretching. He went to peer up the stairs.

"I think it's lettin' up a little," he said, and Evan got up to go stand beside him, looking out as well.

"Hmm," he said, and went on up the stairs. "Comere, Ford," he said then.

Ford went up the stairs as well, and left there alone, I stretched my legs out. I was so so hungry. I thought longingly, wistfully, of

all the meals that I'd pushed away before finishing. Some of Hannah's fried chicken and mashed potatoes would taste awfully good right

about now. In between the images of food in my head, I could hear Ford and Evan talking up above me, but really quietly. I couldn't make out

the words.

I stood up, and went to the bottom of the steps, trying to listen. They only lowered their voices even more.

"What are you guys talking about?" I demanded.

When they ignored my question, I went halfway up. "What are you talking about?" I asked again.

"We're talkin' about what a pain in the butt you are most of the time," Evan said.

"Hardee har har," I said, and went up the remaining steps.

It had lightened up a lot outside. The storm had passed, it seemed. There was still a bit of rain falling, but the worst was over.

"Are we going now?" I asked, squeezing in between them to look out. "It looks okay, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Evan said, and I thought that he sounded sort of funny.

"What?" I asked, turning to look at him.

"Listen, Har," Ford said, "Evan and I are thinking that one of us should stay here with you, while the other one walks back, and then comes back with

one of the trucks."

"What?" I asked, looking from Ford to Evan and then back again. "Why?"

"Because," Evan said. "It's been a long day for you. You need to eat somethin' soon. And one of us can make it back a lot faster alone. That's why."

"I'll be alright till we get home to eat," I protested. "And I can walk just as fast as either of you."

"No, you can't, Harlie," Evan said, with maddening calmness. "I know you want to act like you're a tough nut, and all-"

"I am tough!" I said, raising my voice a notch. "I'm not some frail little city flower!"

"I didn't say you were," Evan said, still calmly.

"Having diabetes has made me tough!" I went on. "You can't have something stupid like diabetes and be weak-"

"Aw, Har," Ford said, and put his arm around my shoulders. "Don't get all worked up."

"Yeah. I know you're a bad ass," Evan said.

"If you start laughing at me, Evan Wayne, I swear-" I threatened.

"I would never," Evan said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Or I might, but I'm not right now, I promise. Okay?"

I could hear the grin in his voice, and I straightened up to my full height. "I can walk with you guys," I said, trying to sound convincing.

When they both regarded me with dubious expressions, I said, "I can! Please. Give me a chance."

"What if we give you a chance, and it starts pouring rain again?" Evan pointed out. "And besides, you've gotta be getting really hungry. That's gonna

make you weak."

"You've both got to be starving, too," I pointed out. Reasonably, I felt.

"The difference is, Evan and I don't have diabetes," Ford said quietly.

"We're worried about you," Evan said. "We're tryin' to do what's best."

"Please, Ev," I said, practically begging. "I can do it."

Evan looked at Ford in question. Ford shrugged his shoulders lightly. "Like you said, she's a bad-ass," Ford said, with a half-smile.

Evan regarded me intently for a long few moments. I stayed quiet, just watching his face.

"Alright," he said finally. "Come on then, little bad-ass."

7

7


	30. Cavalry

So the boys went to gather up our stuff, the rifle and the first aid kit. I waited just outside, while they went to do that, and blow out

the candles that Evan had lit.

We set out, all of us determined in our own way. My determination was to get home, to our comfortable living room couch, after having

changed out of wet soppy jeans. I would, I thought, be warm and toasty after putting on pajamas, and eating myself silly.

"I'm gonna eat up everything that's left in the refrigerator," Ford said, at one point in our brisk walking.

I don't know how long we'd walked. I wasn't even paying much attention to the surroundings. I was just intent on putting one foot

in front of the other.

I tried to keep my feet moving, even though my spirit was lagging. But I tried my best to not show that. I didn't want Evan

saying 'I told you so' again.

I wasn't so good at pretending, I guess. Evan eventually paused in his determined walking, to stop and turn back to look

at me.

"You alright?" he asked me.

"Yes. Great," I said, with forced cheerfulness.

Evan sighed, and handed off the rifle to Ford. Then he turned his back to me, and bent his legs a little.

"Come on," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"Climb on. Let's go," he said.

"I don't need a piggyback ride," I said, trying to sound insulted. "I'm okay."

"Let's go," he said again, turning to give me a look that rated a seven at least, on the scale of impatience.

"You can't tote me all the way home," I protested, though not as stubbornly. I was sorely tempted to take him up on his offer.

"It's just until you get your wind back," Evan said. His face softened a little. "Come on, Har."

So I hopped upwards, onto his back. He situated my legs with his hands, and then began walking again.

"You can say 'I told you so' if you want to," I said softly, leaning my head towards his ear.

"I wouldn't," he said. "You're tougher than a lot of men that I know."

I gave him a squeeze with my arms that were around his shoulders. "Thanks, Ev," I said, humbled.

7

So on we went. At one point, I got so sleepy that I was actually having difficulty keeping my eyes open. I was in that

sort of haze, trying to stay awake, when thru the sticky afternoon air, we all heard the sound of a truck motor.

"Whoo hoo!" Ford said in glee.

That was enough to rouse me from my sleepiness. I raised my head up to look in the direction that Ford was pointing in.

There, coming across the grassy patches, was the old farm truck. The one that Brian says is good for 'Point A to B', but

always adds to not request it to make it to 'Point C'.

"The cavalry has arrived!" Ford said.

"Glory Hallelujah," Evan added, and stopped walking, where I slid off of his back.

"Praise the Lord and pass the biscuits," I said.

The truck was almost up onto us, and I could see that Adam and Daniel were in the cab, with Daniel doing the driving.

Adam was out of the truck before Daniel had even come to a complete stop.

"Everybody alright?" were the first words out of his mouth.

"We're alright," Ford said.

"What happened?" he demanded, as Daniel came up beside him.

"Tore the suspension out of the Jeep," Evan said, not mincing any words.

"Where at?" Adam asked.

Evan told him, and I could see Adam's mind calculating how far that was.

Daniel reached out and gave me a hug. "Hey, you," he said. "You're wet." He ran his hand over the top of Ford's head.

"You're wet, too."

"You sure you're all alright?" Adam asked again, looking all three of us over.

"We're alright," Evan said. "Other than bein' wet, and hungry." He nodded in my direction. "Harlie needs to eat somethin' soon."

Adam looked at me more closely, his forehead furrowed in concern. "We thought of that. There's some peanut butter and crackers

in the truck. Hannah was fairly sure you didn't take any food with you."

He put his hand on Ford's shoulder. "Let's get you all home, and fed, and into some dry clothes."

"Sounds good," Ford said. "I could eat a horse."

"I don't know about a horse, but we'll get your bellies full," Adam said.

As we were walking the few feet towards the truck, I heard Evan speak quietly to Adam, "I'm sorry, Adam. It was a stupid mistake on my part."

"Let's not worry about it right now," Adam said. "We'll get Harlie home and then come back to get the Jeep."

I was ushered into the middle of the truck seat, with Adam driving, and Ford on my other side. Evan and Daniel rode in the back of the truck,

sitting on the tail gate.

Adam pointed out the peanut butter and crackers and told me to start eating. And in truth, it didn't take much telling on his part.

I was point blank starving. So I began dipping the crackers into the jar of peanut butter, eating, and then holding it out to offer

Ford some. He took some as well, and in between our munching, I observed Adam out of the corner of my eye. He didn't look

angry, or seem angry. But, I for certain did not want him to chew Evan out about the damage to the Jeep.

"Were you out in the storm the whole time?" Adam asked.

I was quick to answer. "No, Evan knew where there was this cave thing. A root cellar. We stayed in there during the

worst part."

"That's good," Adam said.

I wiped a bit of peanut butter off the corner of my mouth, and said, "Evan hasn't had anything to eat all day. He and Ford made sure

I had what there was to eat."

"That's good," Adam said, again.

"And then they took care of my hands," I went on.

"What happened to your hands?" Adam asked, reaching down to turn my hand over to look at the bandage.

"Splinters. And a couple of blisters. Which I got because I didn't listen to Evan. He told me to wear the gloves."

"Well, we'll have Hannah or Clare look at your hands when we get home," he said.

"And then when I was tired, Evan gave me a piggyback ride," I said.

Adam turned to look at me. "I'm glad the boys took such good care of you," he said. A comment that I couldn't really

decipher as to whether he was understanding what I was getting at. He looked amused, more than anything else.

"Ev feels bad about the Jeep," I said, after a few moments of silence.

"Everything will work out," Adam said.

I turned to give Ford a look, but he only shrugged, looking tired.

When we reached our own pasture, Daniel jumped down to open the gate, and Adam drove thru, parking the

truck. In no time at all, Hannah was coming down the front steps, and right over to us, as we began walking across

the yard.

"Are you all alright?" she asked, in her 'mom' voice.

"We're alright," Ford said. "Just wet and hungry."

"Well, I've got plenty for you to eat," she said, and patted Ford's shoulder, looking towards me then.

"Are you feeling shobbly?" she asked me, which is her own made-up word that means a cross between shaky and wobbly.

"Not really," I told her. "I'm okay."

"How about you, Evan?" she asked, running her hand over his arm.

"I'm fine, Hannah."

Adam asked Daniel to ride out and try to find Brian and Crane, whom I gathered from the conversation were out on horseback

looking for us, as well.

It didn't take long for the three of us to change to dry clothes. I put on a pair of fleece sweat pants, and a t shirt, but the boys both

reappeared in dry jeans. It felt so so so good to be dry again. I sat on the edge of my bed, pulling on dry socks, and just enjoying

the feeling.

When I was done changing, I hustled downstairs as quickly as I could. I'd thought of taking a really hot shower, but decided that

I wanted food more than I did a shower at that moment.

I followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, where both Evan and Ford were sitting at the table, eating 'Dagwood' types of

sandwiches with glasses of milk.

Evan was discussing with Adam what he thought about the damage to the Jeep. Adam stopped talking long enough to look

up at me.

"Sit down, sugar," he told me. "Get something to eat."

I slid into my seat, just in time to hear Captain Jack squawking from the living room. "Call the doctor! Call the doctor!"

"Silly bird's been at it all day long," Hannah said.

"Is he keeping Scooter from napping?" Ford asked.

"No, not anymore. I think Isaac's actually gotten used to him," Hannah said.

I took pieces of turkey, and the ham, too, and spread peanut butter on a piece of celery, and then took several cubes of cheese,

and cantaloupe.

"The boys say your hands are blistered," Hannah said.

When I nodded, munching on my celery, Hannah said, "I'll look at them after you eat."

"Okay," I said. It seemed a perfect opening to begin my defense of Evan again, but before I could, there was

the scraping of boots at the back door, and it opened.

"Hey," Brian said, coming inside. He reached out to cuff Ford's ear. "We'd about given you three up for lost. Everybody okay?"

"We're okay," Ford said.

I kept eating, looking up at Brian as he passed behind my chair. "A little hungry there, are you, peach?" he teased, looking at my loaded plate.

I nodded, and finished chewing. "Yep."

As Brian was filled in on the whereabouts of the Jeep, and what damage that Evan suspected, he said, "Well, we'll go haul it home."

"Yeah. I thought we'd head out after a coffee break," Adam told him.

"What in hell were you tryin' to do?" Brian asked Evan, and, although he didn't sound mad, or even irritated, but actually more amused,

I still felt as though I should speak up.

"He was taking me up there because I wanted to see the old homestead," I interjected into the conversation.

"Oh, yeah?" Brian asked, looking at me and then back to Evan again.

"He was trying to be nice," I said loyally.

"Damn stupid thing to do," Evan said.

"Well, it won't be the first or the last time that a McFadden did somethin' stupid," Brian said, and he grinned at Evan.

I felt a little better, then, and I think Evan did, too.

"As soon as you're back, we'll have supper," Hannah said. "I'll start frying the chicken. How long do you think you'll be?"

"At least a couple of hours," Adam told her.

"Well, we'll have a later than usual supper then," Hannah said.

"Where's Clare?" Brian asked.

"I sent her upstairs to lie down," Hannah said.

"Hmm," Brian said, and his forehead wrinkled a little.

As they started standing up, and scooting in their chairs to the table, Ford asked, "Do you want me to come and help?"

Adam told him no, to do the evening chores with Daniel and Crane.

"How about me?" I asked, jokingly. "Do you want me to come and help?"

"No, sugar. We'll try to muddle along without you," Adam said, teasing in return, and tugging on one of my curls.

"It'll be hard," I said. "You all know how much help I am."

Brian laughed, but Evan gave me a half-smile. "You are good help," he said. And to Adam and Brian he

offered, "She worked her butt off up there today. Stacked nearly all that wood by herself."

I smiled at Evan.

"Good to hear," Adam said. He leaned down to give Hannah a quick kiss. "We'll be back," he said, and he and Brian and Evan

went out, letting the screen door slam.

I finished the food on my plate, as Ford was going outside, and put my plate in the sink, asking Hannah what she

wanted me to do.

"Are you sure you feel alright?" she asked me. "I know you didn't want to say anything in front of the guys."

"I really am alright," I said. "The boys took good care of me."

Hannah smiled. "I'll bet they did. Well, make sure you stay hydrated, and eat plenty at suppertime."

"Don't worry about that," I said. "I'm already thinking about your fried chicken. Are you making mashed potatoes to

go with it?"

"From the sound of your voice, I'd say that you hope so, huh?" she asked.

"I wouldn't complain about it."

"Well, if you go start a load of laundry for me, and then peel the potatoes, then we'll have mashed potatoes," Hannah said.

I agreed, and went downstairs to start a load in the washing machine. I was pouring the Tide in when I heard

a scuffling, and a light cough behind me.

I turned so fast that I dripped the detergent on the concrete floor. I had to catch myself from screaming out loud from

being so startled.

Kenny was sitting in one of the old, broken recliners in the corner. And Guthrie was sitting there beside him, in another chair.

"'Lo, there, Harlie," Kenny said, with a cockeyed smile.

He sounded as though he'd been drinking. For a good part of the afternoon, too.

While Kenny was grinning at me like a fool, Guthrie's face was deadpan, not showing any expression really.

"Good grief," I said, tossing a dirty towel over the spilled detergent to wipe it up. "You just about gave me a heart attack!"

"Don't want that, huh, Guthrie?" Kenny said, and closed his eyes.

Guthrie didn't answer that. He just sat there, still and quiet, staring at me.

"I thought you went to Trent's to ride four-wheelers," I said. I felt weird. Uncomfortable. As though the axis was

off-balance. Something was wrong with Guthrie. For a moment, I was struck by sudden panic that Guthrie was

drunk, too.

"We did," Guthrie said. "And then we came home." His voice was flat.

"Oh." I took a few steps closer to see him better. The lighting in the basement isn't the best.

"I didn't see your truck parked outside," I said.

"I didn't know I had to report to you," Guthrie said, and I stared at him, first in surprise, and then in temper.

"What is wrong with you, Guthrie?!" I demanded.

"Talk quiet," Guthrie said. "I don't want Hannah comin' down here. It was hard enough gettin' Kenny down here without her

seein'."

"She won't come down. She's getting ready to cook chicken," I told him.

"Oh," Guthrie said, sounding relieved. "Where's everybody else at?"

"Gone to get the Jeep or outside doing chores."

Guthrie stood up then, and asked, just as if we were having an entirely normal sort of conversation, "What's wrong with the Jeep?"

"It broke down," I said shortly, not going into any details.

I looked at Kenny again, who, just in that few moments, had seemingly gone to sleep.

"He's three sheets to the wind," I said. "What's he doing down here, in the basement?"

"I thought he should stay here until he sobers up a little."

"Oh." I gave Guthrie a closer look. "Are you alright?"

"If you mean, am I drunk too, then the answer's no, I'm not."

"Alright. Fine," I said, and went back over to the washing machine. "You don't have to be so hateful, Guthrie."

I repoured the detergent, and put it in, and then began stuffing in pairs of various brother's jeans.

I heard Guthrie heave a heavy sigh, and then he came over to stand beside me.

"Let's not fight," he said, quietly..

"I'm not trying to fight," I felt obliged to point out. "I just asked if you were alright."

"I'm alright," he said.

"Well, great. Everything is just hunky-dory then, isn't it?" I snapped.

"Now, you're the one bein' hateful," Guthrie pointed out.

I shut the lid on the machine. "Well, this whole thing with Kenny is just weird!"

"Shhh," Guthrie shushed me, with a look towards the stairs.

"Why is he drinking so much?" I asked, lowering my voice again. "Is it because of his dad or what?"

"Yeah. It's because of his dad," Guthrie said. Then, in another about-face, he said, "I spose you think it's because

he's feelin' all guilty about something."

There was a challenge in Guthrie's tone, and on his face, too. I looked right back at him.

"Yes, that's exactly what I think," I said.

"That figures," he said, and for a long moment we glared at one another.

There was the sound of footsteps at the top of the stairs. "Harlie?" Hannah called down.

Guthrie gave me a panicked look.

"She's comin' down here," Guthrie hissed.

I went quickly to the foot up the stairs, looking upwards. Hannah paused at the top.

"Everything alright?" she asked me. "Is the washing machine acting up again?"

"No. It's fine," I said. "I'll be up in a minute."

"Okay," Hannah said, and her head disappeared back around the corner to the kitchen.

I looked over at Guthrie, and he gave me a long look. "Thanks," he said, with a sigh.

I came over to him and whispered, "What are you going to do? Keep Kenny down here all night?"

"I thought I'd get him upstairs later, maybe. Tell everybody tomorrow at breakfast that he just spent the night here."

"They'll ask why he didn't come down to supper," I told him.

"I'll think of something," he said.

"Okay." I went back to the bottom of the steps, and paused, looking back over at Kenny, and then at

Guthrie.

"Why don't you just tell them the truth?" I asked. "Tell them Kenny drank too much and he's sleeping it off here."

"Listen to you preach," Guthrie said.

I bristled at that. "I'm not. I just think that they'd understand. At least Brian would."

"Yeah," Guthrie said, sounding irritable. "And then right after that they'd call Kenny's folks. And then they'd start in on me about the drinkin', thinking that I'm

doin' it, too."

Part of me just wished I could go on upstairs, and leave Guthrie to his mess with Kenny. But, years of sticking together, and having each

other's backs, well, that sort of habit doesn't just get broken.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Just don't say anything about him being down here. That's all."

"Fine," I said shortly.

I was midway up when he said, quietly, "Thanks."

I turned and leaned over the railing. "I owe you for last fall, when you helped me with my math, and didn't

tell anybody about the cheating."

Guthrie looked sort of sad for a moment. "I was cheating, too, Har. That was on both of us."

I shrugged.

"Well, anyway," he said, "Thanks."

"I can't promise I can keep everybody from coming down here. But I'll try.

Guthrie nodded at me, and I went on back upstairs.

7

"


	31. Potato peeling

I went back upstairs, and closed the door going down to the basement. Hannah was sitting at the kitchen table, a big bowl of potatoes in

front of her, and a paring knife in her hands, and another lying on the table.

"I'll do that," I told her.

"I thought I'd help you. Daniel took Isaac for a walk for me."

"Okay," I said, and sat down in the chair next to her, picking up the other knife, and a potato. We sat and peeled potatoes for the

next twenty minutes or so, and the whole time I was thinking about Guthrie downstairs, with an inebriated Kenny.

"Your mind's miles away," Hannah said.

"Sorry," I said, looking at her. "Were you trying to talk to me?"

"It's alright," she said. "I can imagine how tired you must be. It's been a very long day for you."

"I'm alright. I've sort of got my second wind." After a couple of moments, I said, "What do you think is going on lately? With the gunshots we heard,

and all the tire tracks and all of that stuff? The whole mystery?"

"I don't know," Hannah said, looking pensive. "I sit sometimes and just think about it. Trying to figure it out."

"Me, too."

"I wish there would be some sort of a break in the case," Hannah went on.

"I don't think the sheriff and his deputies are very bright," I offered.

"I'm sure they're doing their best."

"Best for an office full of monkeys," I added, with an eye roll, and Hannah laughed.

"Not very respectful," she told me, but she was still smiling.

"I don't think Seth has anything to do with it, really," I said casually, reaching for another potato to peel.

"What?" Hannah asked, plainly surprised by my comment.

"I don't think he's in on it."

"After the phone calls? And coming here late at night like he did, trying to see you? Didn't he say he knew something about

what was going on?" she asked, stopping her peeling to look at me.

"Yeah. He said that," I admitted.

Hannah regarded me with a serious 'mom' type of look. "But now you don't think that he did know anything?"

"He might know a little, but I don't think he was one of the guys in the field the night Warrior got hurt."

"Why do you think that?" she asked.

I hesitated, studying her face. Telling Hannah something like this was sort of a 50/50 risk. She liked it when I talked to her,

and confided in her. She would usually give me a chance to tell Adam on my own if it was something she thought he needed to know.

Like, for instance, when that whole swim suit calendar thing had happened in my freshman year, I'd told her, and she gave me

time to tell Adam. This, however, was a little different. She would think that Adam would need to know that Seth had

talked to me. She'd consider it a safety issue.

The whole family by now thought of Seth as mostly a no-good. And a lot of that was Seth's own fault. Well, truthfully, most all of it. And, it wasn't as

though I was interested in dating him or anything like that at all. I just didn't want it to be seen as an issue of me not being truthful or

anything.

I met Hannah's eye. "Because he told me that he wasn't," I said.

Hannah's expression became alarmed instantly. "Harlie, tell me that you haven't been seeing that boy-"

Her voice sort of trailed off, and by 'seeing' I knew she meant sneaking around to see Seth, as in a dating sort of thing.

"No, Hannah," I said quickly. "I haven't."

"Thank goodness," she said, relief obvious on her face.

"Besides," I added, laying my last peeled potato in the bowl ready for cooking, "This summer I've hardly gone anywhere, unless

it was with Steven, or Ford and Evan and Guthrie. I'd be hard-pressed to have had any sort of secret rendezvous with Seth."

I'd meant it as a slight joke, to lighten the conversation, but Hannah didn't look amused.

She laid her paring knife completely to the side, and leaned forward on the table, crossing her arms.

"Would you want to?" she asked bluntly. "If you did have the opportunity?"

"No," I said again, just as quickly. "I wouldn't."

"Are you sure?" she asked me then. "You had a look about you when you said you don't think he's involved. As if you've

changed your mind about him somewhat."

"I guess I've sort of changed my mind. A little bit. He was being honest with me, I think. And he told me that he

just wants to straighten himself out, and not cause us anymore trouble. But, I wouldn't want to go out with him, or

be his friend, or anything like that." I decided that it would pure foolishness on my part to mention the kiss that I'd exchanged with

Seth.

Hannah hesitated a moment or two longer, and then nodded slowly. "How did it happen then?" she asked me.

So, I told her about the trip into town with Daniel and Evan, and how I'd seen and talked to Seth when I was at the

grocery store. And how Seth had said he'd only scouted fences, and didn't know anything else about what was happening

around our area.

"And then Evan started asking me all sorts of questions," I went on. "And it made me mad."

"So you didn't tell them?" she asked.

"I'd have been afraid to tell them," I said. "Evan would have hunted Seth down right there in town, and there would have

been a big fracas, all because he dared to speak to me."

"Well," Hannah said. "That's probably right."

"And then they both would have yelled at me, and started with the lectures, and probably Evan would have told Brian and Adam,

and it would have blown up and seemed as though it was something that I wanted to do."

"That's probably right, too," she agreed.

"So," I said, and reached for another potato. "That's why I didn't say anything."

"I understand," she said, slowly, but sounded uncertain.

"But?" I asked, knowing that there was more that she wanted to say.

"But, I think you should consider talking to-" she hesitated, "To one of your brothers. At least so they're aware of it. I'm concerned

that you might be being-misled. By Seth."

"You think he might have an ulterior motive," I said, in statement. "That he thinks he can fool me."

"I think it's possible." She reached over and squeezed my hand. "Don't be mad at me for saying that."

"I'm not," I said, with a sigh.

"And, besides," she went on, "If he is involved in any way at all, even if he says it was a small involvement, well, that's

something that might help the case. It's something the sheriff might need to know."

"Yeah," I said, quietly, thinking about what she was saying.

"So?" she prompted, looking at me with a degree of sympathy.

"So, I'll talk to-" I hesitated, "To somebody."

Hannah smiled a little. "Good. And it's not as though you don't have a choice of many."

"Yeah. But calm would be good. Listening and not hollering," I said dryly.

As we both started peeling potatoes again, I let my mind run over brotherly options in my head.

7

It was after we were finishing up the supper preparations, that Hannah wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and announced

that she would go down and switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer.

"I know they're all going to be wanting clean, dry jeans for tomorrow," she said.

"I'll go," I said, in a rush, and hastened over to the door leading to the basement.

"Why don't you go sit and read for awhile?" Hannah suggested. "You've had a crazy busy day."

"I don't mind," I said, edging my way around her to open the door.

"Well, okay," she said, and turned back to another kitchen task.

I closed the door behind me, and went down the stairs. Midway down, I gave a loud whisper, "Guth? It's me."

Guthrie appeared at the foot of the steps, and I went on down to meet him.

"Hannah was gonna come down to put the clothes in the dryer," I told him, in another whisper, going over to the

washing machine.

"Oh," Guthrie said.

I put up the lid and began taking out the wet jeans, shuffling them into the dryer. I cast a glance over towards Kenny. He

was still in the same spot, his head hanging over the arm of the chair.

"Anybody else around?" Guthrie asked.

"I don't know. I've been in the kitchen all this time with Hannah." I pushed the start button on the dryer.

"Can you get her out of the kitchen?" Guthrie asked me. "I'll get Kenny upstairs."

"I don't know. I'll try," I said, although I wasn't all that keen on doing what he wanted. Just as I was headed back upstairs, I

heard footsteps above us, and then voices. Several of them. We both tilted our heads, listening.

Male voices intermixed with Hannah's. Guthrie and I exchanged a look.

"Damn," he muttered.

"Everybody's coming in to eat supper," I said.

"Yeah."

He looked thoughtful, and I said, "What are you gonna do?"

Guthrie cast a glance towards Kenny. "Leave him down here, I guess, and hope he sleeps a lot longer. Then try to get him upstairs later

tonight."

We went up the stairs together, and I opened the door at the top.

There's not that much room at the very top before you step into the main part of the kitchen, so the door

nearly caught Crane as he was passing from the mudroom.

"Whoa," he said.

"Sorry," I told him.

His gaze landed on Guthrie. "Where have you been?" he asked.

Brian turned from where he was stirring a glass of iced tea. "Yeah. Good question. We saw your truck behind the shed. Where

have you been all afternoon?"

"Did you need me for somethin'?" Guthrie asked, effectively turning their questions into another question.

"We could have used your help," Brian told him dryly.

"Sorry," Guthrie said. "I can help you now, if you want."

Brian's gaze seemed questioning, but all he said right then was, "After supper."

"Okay," Guthrie said, and went to the sink to wash his hands.

Brian's gaze turned to me then. "How are you feelin'? Still alright?"

I nodded.

We all sat down to supper, including Clare, who was sitting in her spot at the table. She looked fine to me. Rested. Bright. She

and Brian held hands as the food was passed around.

From the conversation that ensued, I gathered that the Jeep had been retrieved, via our trailer pulled behind Ford's truck. After that

there was some talk about the day's work, and what to do with all the firewood that Ford and Evan had cut up.

Then, when Crane brought up the subject of Kenny's dad, and his diagnosis of cancer, most everyone started talking about that.

What a terrible thing it was. How he was going to manage his large ranch with just one ranch hand and Kenny, when he himself wouldn't be

able to help.

I felt Guthrie tense up from his spot next to me. He kept eating, but he contributed nothing to the conversation.

"We could take some meals over there," Hannah suggested.

"I hate to say it, but Mrs. Harris isn't going to be strong enough to do a lot to help," Crane said.

"No," Adam agreed.

"Is she driving him to his treatments?" Hannah asked.

"Not from what I understand," Crane said. "I think they said Harve Peterson was driving him back and forth."

"Oh. She doesn't drive," Hannah said. "I remember now."

"Why doesn't she drive?" Clare asked, sounding shocked.

"She never learned to," Hannah said, and looked towards Adam. "Isn't that right?"

"I think so."

"I can't imagine," Clare said. "I mean, how in the world does she manage everything, not being able to drive?"

"He's always done everything, pretty much," Brian told her. "Driven her wherever she wanted to go, and all that."

"Wow," Clare said, still sounding disbelieving.

"Why the heck isn't Kenny helping drive him back and forth to the hospital?" Brian demanded.

Everybody sort of turned their attention to Guthrie at that point, and he chewed the bite in his mouth, and said,

sounding vague, "I don't know. Busy doin' other stuff, I guess."

"He's probably helping out a lot around the ranch," Hannah said, smiling at Guthrie. "Having to take more

responsibility. Right?"

"Yeah. I guess," Guthrie said, and took a long drink of milk.

At the mention of what Kenny might be doing to occupy his time, I looked across the table towards Ford and Evan,

and they were both quiet, concentrating on their meal, but I knew they were thinking about Kenny and his flask.

7


	32. Fish out of water

After supper was finished, Crane and Daniel left shortly afterwards. From what I'd gathered of their conversation,

Crane had a date with Cindy, and she was bringing along a friend of hers who was visiting to be Daniel's date.

I wondered if Evan was going out, too, with Nancy, but when Brian asked him his plans for the evening, his response

was a fervent, "Shower and bed. In that order."

"Same for me," Ford said.

"You should get to bed early, too," Hannah told me. "After the adventurous day the three of you had."

"It sounds good to me," I agreed, hoping that Guthrie didn't want me to help any more with the big lump of stupid

in the basement named Kenny.

Brian reminded Guthrie that he had a few things for him to do after supper, and, as he prepared to go outside with

Brian and Adam, Guthrie turned to give me a look. A beseeching look. A look which I knew was a request to

go downstairs and check on Kenny.

I frowned at him fiercely, letting him know my thoughts on that.

He caught me at the back door, pulling me away from the sink to whisper to me. "Just go see if he's still asleep."

"You go when you come back in," I whispered back.

"Who knows how long I'm gonna be outside?" Guthrie pointed out. "Just check, will ya?"

"I still think-" I began.

"I know what you think," Guthrie hissed.

"What are you two whispering about?" Brian asked, appearing from around the corner, and pulling his ball cap down on

his head.

I felt guilty instantly, and looked to Guthrie to answer.

"Ready to go, Bri?" Guthrie said, and pushed the screen door open to go out.

I went quickly to the sink so as not to see if Brian was still looking at me.

When Clare and I had finished the dishes, and Guthrie still hadn't come back inside, I went reluctantly down the

basement stairs, and stopped midway, peering over and down. I didn't particularly want to go all the way down, just in

case Kenny was awake.

From where I stood, it appeared he was still sleeping. His mouth was open and he looked to me like a big fish out of water.

A stupid fish.

I stood there a moment or so longer, thinking. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, and the bandage on his arm was gone.

I knew what a dog bite looked like. If I could get close enough to look at his arm while he was still sleeping...well, that would

answer my questions, wouldn't it?

I think I might have done it right then, gone to look at his arm, but before I could make the final decision to do so, there was

somebody at the top of the stairs, closing the door, and then reopening it.

"Hey, toots," Clare said. "I didn't see you down there. Sorry for closing the door on you."

"That's okay," I said, and went up the stairs quickly.

I went to have my shower. The hot water tank had recovered enough from the dishes and Ford and Evan's showers to

provide somewhat of a warmish stream of water. Warm, but not hot.

Once in my pajamas, I went back down to the living room. Adam was alone, sitting on the couch. He was just

sitting there, his head leaning back, and his eyes closed. I went over closer, and paused to look at him a little closer.

There was a streak of dirt or grease on his forehead. It was hard to tell which it was.

I thought for a moment, and then went to the kitchen, which was all tidied up, and empty of McFaddens, with only

the light over the sink on. I went to the coffee pot. The red light was off, but I touched it with my finger, and it

was still warm. Nearly hot. I took down a clean cup and poured what remained in the pot into the cup, and went back

to the living room.

Adam was still in the same position. I didn't want to wake him, if he really was asleep. Still, to be sure,

I said quietly, "Adam?"

He stirred a little, and then opened his eyes. "Hey, sugar," he said, sitting up.

"Hey." I held out the cup of coffee. "Here."

"Thank you," he said, and reached out to take it.

I curled up in the chair directly next to the end of the couch he was sitting on. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"It's fine. I was just dozing."

He took a sip of the coffee, and then let the cup rest on his leg.

"Had your shower?" he asked, in conversation, taking notice of my pajamas.

"Yeah."

"Where is everybody?" he asked me.

"I think Evan and Ford went to bed, maybe. Brian and Guthrie are still outside, I guess."

Adam nodded, and took another drink of coffee.

"You should go get your shower," I told him. "While there's hot water."

"I should," he said, and smiled at me.

But he just sat there, drinking his coffee, and after a couple of moments, I said, "Could I talk to you

about something? Or are you too tired?"

Partly, I was in hopes that he would say he was too tired. Then I'd be off the hook for a bit longer.

"I think I can stay awake long enough to have a conversation with you," he said, and smiled again. "What's up?"

"When I went to town the other day, to get the groceries, with Evan and Daniel? I was in the store, and

Seth was there, too. He said hello to me, and then-well, he started talking."

Adam set the empty cup down on the coffee table, never taking his eyes from my face.

"I tried to brush him off," I said quickly, nervous of the look in Adam's eye. "But he started by apologizing, and

so I asked him what he was doing up at the line cabin. He admitted that he had been up there."

Adam was still regarding me with a somber expression, sort of stern looking.

"You had no reason to talk to him at all, Harlie," he said.

"Yes," I said in agreement. "But, I thought while I had the chance, and he was being nice, I thought maybe I

could get some sort of information out of him-"

"Which is not your job," Adam said, emphasizing the word 'not'.

"I know," I said. Then, trying to sound respectful, I added, "It's just that it was in the store-it's not like anything

could happen."

What Adam thought of that comment was obvious in the continuing look he gave me. Intense. He didn't buy it.

I felt that look to my toes.

"It wasn't the best idea," I said, in defeat.

"No. It wasn't."

"He did say that he wouldn't cause us any more trouble. The family, I mean."

"Well, that's good to hear," Adam said dryly. "If he can be believed, that is."

"Yes," I admitted, and waited.

"I don't want you to talk to him at all," Adam said. "Not on the phone. Not in a store. Not at the gas station. Nowhere."

"Okay," I said.

"So what are you going to do, the next time he strikes up a conversation with you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Walk away."

"Right."

We were both quiet for a couple of moments. Adam looked stern, irritated even, but not really angry.

"He did tell me something, though," I went on. "Something that the sheriff maybe should know."

"What is it?"

"He said that he and the other guy that were staying up at the cabin, they were paid by some men to scout out

fences in the area. See what areas were open and what were fenced. He said that the other guy was the one who

talked to the men, and got the money."

"Hmm," Adam said, looking pensive.

"Seth said he didn't know who the men were, or anything like that."

"And you believe that?" Adam asked me.

"I sort of do," I admitted. "He was convincing."

"Which is the reason I want you to stay as far from him as possible," Adam said firmly.

I wanted to say that even though I thought that Seth might have been telling the truth, that didn't mean that I would be

ready to believe anything or everything that he said to me. But I kept my mouth closed. Saying that would only irritate

Adam more, and I didn't want that.

"I'll call the sheriff and let them know what he said about the fences," Adam said. "It might be worth them talking to him and

his buddy," he said.

I nodded, and for a couple of moments we sat in stillness.

"Come over here," he said, holding out his left arm.

I went to sit beside him, and he let his arm rest across my shoulders.

"I'm glad you told me," he said.

I thought he didn't sound glad, really, but just tired.

I twisted to look up at him. "You need a vacation," I told him.

"I just need a good night's sleep, is all," he corrected.

We sat like that, in companionable silence, until we heard voices in the kitchen, coming thru to the living room.

"Go take your shower and get ready for bed," Brian was telling Guthrie.

"You can go ahead of me," Guthrie said, and I knew that he wanted to go down to the basement and check on

Kenny.

"Naw, you go on," Brian said, and Guthrie shot me a look. A look full of questions.

I gave a brief nod, suggesting that to the best of my knowledge, Kenny was still passed out in the chair downstairs.

Guthrie went on upstairs, and I sat there for a few more minutes, listening while Brian and Adam talked.

There was a crash from down in the basement. I heard it instantly, and I knew that there was no way that Adam and Brian didn't

hear it, too.

"What the hell is that?" Brian asked.

"Sounds like something fell in the basement," Adam said.

They both got up, and so did I.

They were both headed to the kitchen, and nearly to the basement doorway before I could catch up. I quickly slipped in

front of the door, just as Brian put his hand on the doorknob to open it.

"I'll go-" I said, breathlessly.

"What do ya mean, you'll go?" Brian said. "Move, peach."

I stood where I was. While I didn't care a whit about Kenny, I did care about Guthrie. We've always taken up for one

another. Tried to save the other from trouble. Those lifelong habits don't fall away.

When I stood still, not moving, trying to think of what to say, Brian said, again, in irritation, "Move." He put his hand on

my arm, moving me in no uncertain terms.

"Wait!" I said, and they both paused to look at me. "It's Kenny," I said, in a rush.

"What's Kenny?" Adam asked, looking totally perplexed. And irritated.

"Downstairs," I said. "In the basement."

"Why is Kenny in the basement?" Brian asked.

I looked from him to Adam and then back again. "He was sleeping earlier," I said, sort of lamely.

They both gave me a scalding look, and then exchanged their own glance as well. I knew that they knew that there

was plenty more to it than Kenny just sleeping. Then, Brian very purposefully moved me from the

doorway. He didn't so much push as he did simply pick me up, and move me, and then set me back down again.

They both went down the stairs, and like something that you don't want to watch, but the sheer horror of it makes you

watch, I followed.

Kenny had succeeded in knocking over one of the tall metal shelves that hold all sorts of things. Canned food, some tools,

even a couple of Ford's instruments. That stuff was strewn all over.

Kenny himself was back in the chair, though his eyes were open. Not wide open, but open.

He grinned like an idiot at Brian and Adam. "Hey, Brian. Hey, Adam," he said. Then he closed his eyes again.

Brian went over to Kenny and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He hoisted him half out of the chair.

He took a sniff of Kenny, and then shook him a little. "He's bombed," he said.

He turned Kenny loose, and he promptly fell back into his sleeping slouch.

Adam turned to me. "Is this Guthrie's doing?" he demanded of me.

I looked at him, feeling torn. I wanted to answer him. I did. I wasn't out to get myself into trouble. But to throw Guthrie

under the bus totally?

So I hesitated, while Brian came back over and they both glared at me.

"How longs he been here?" Brian asked.

"I'm not sure," I said, in truth, but when Brian's jaw set, I knew I had to answer.

"Part of the afternoon, I know," I admitted.

"Guthrie's not drunk," Brian said, to Adam. "We spent the better part of an hour outside just awhile ago. I know he's

not."

"Maybe not drunk, but drinking," Adam said darkly.

"He wasn't," I defended Guthrie, but neither one of them paid me any attention.

"Let's get our little brother down here," Adam said.

I cringed because I knew one or both of them was going to start yelling for Guthrie to make his appearance, pronto.

But, before they could go to the top of the stairs and call him, Guthrie was there. Standing midway on the basement steps,

his hair wet from the shower, wearing sweat pants and barefoot.

He stood there, just like that, quietly, for a long loaded moment, and then he came on down the remaining stairs, and

up to stand beside Adam and Brian.

"You'd best start explaining, boy," Adam said, and it was his 'horrible' voice. The one that makes me cringe.

"He was drunk," Guthrie said. "I didn't want him to drive. And I didn't want to take him home and upset his mom, with

everything that's goin' on with his dad bein' sick. So I brought him here."

"Why's he gettin' drunk like this for?" Brian asked.

"Feelin' bad about everything at home, I guess," Guthrie said.

"He should be at home, helping out wherever he can right now. Not out getting drunk," Adam said.

"I know," Guthrie said.

"Have you been drinking?" Adam asked him, and I felt the tension as thick as could be in the room.

"No, sir," Guthrie said, and I knew that Adam and Brian could tell he was being truthful. "I'm not sayin' I'm above

doing it. But I wanted to keep an eye on Kenny, so I didn't."

"Just what exactly were your plans here, Guthrie?" Brian asked.

"Let him sleep it off. Get him upstairs. Then, in the morning, feed him some breakfast, and take him to get his truck."

"Had it all figured out, huh?" Brian said, and Guthrie's face flushed.

"Do his folks know he's here?" Adam asked then.

"They'll think he's stayin' at Trent's house, or here. They won't worry," Guthrie said.

"I'd suspect they'll worry more than you think," Adam said dryly. "I'll give them a call and let them know he's here."

"Alright. Do you have to tell them? About him drinking?" Guthrie asked, his face hopeful.

"What do you think?" Adam said, in that way that suggests it was a dumb question to ask.

Guthrie gave a sigh.

"This a one-time thing?" Brian asked Guthrie. "Or is he making a habit of it?"

I held my breath, wondering if Guthrie was going to lie.

"Kenny drinks a little," Guthrie said, sounding defensive. "It doesn't make him a bad guy, Brian."

Brian leveled a steely gaze at Guthrie. "I didn't say it did, did I, Guthrie?"

Guthrie ducked his head a little. "No. Sorry."

"Alright. Well, let's get him upstairs, and get his butt to bed," Brian said. "Come on, Guthrie."

So as Brian and Guthrie went over to pull Kenny up out of the chair, Adam sighed heavily.

"Come on. Upstairs," he told me, ushering me ahead of him. To Guthrie, he said, "We're gonna talk again tomorrow. Got it?"

"Got it," Guthrie said.

I went ahead of him up the stairs, and he held the door, as Brian and Guthrie half-carried Kenny up, and thru the doorway, and then

started up the back stairs to the bedroom.

"Have you done your shot?" Adam asked me.

"No. Not yet."

"Do that, and then go to bed," he ordered. He sounded terse.

He headed to the living room, and while I did my shot, I could hear him talking on the telephone. Telling Kenny's parents

where he was.

7


	33. A bad penny

I went to bed after that, and I fell quickly into an exhausted sleep. The sort where you sleep all the way thru the night, without

waking even once.

I woke up the next morning, hearing bumping and shuffling down the hallway outside my door. I listened for a couple of more minutes,

and heard voices, which were quickly hushed.

I got up and went to my door, opening it a crack to look out. Kenny was standing there, not too far from my door, and he was

talking to someone. I opened the crack a bit wider to look down the hallway. It was Guthrie, standing there. He was

still in his sleeping pants and t shirt, and barefoot, so I knew he'd only just woken up. Kenny, on the other hand, was fully

dressed, down to the boots on his feet, and the ball cap on his head.

"Come on," Guthrie was saying.

"I gotta go," Kenny said.

"After breakfast," Guthrie said. "The family thinks you're stayin' for breakfast."

"Well, now they don't have to worry about it," Kenny said.

"You've got to talk to Adam and Brian," Guthrie pointed out.

"You tell 'em thanks for last night and all for me," Kenny said.

"No," Guthrie said, and raised his voice a bit.

"Man, Guthrie, you need to lighten up."

Guthrie came over closer to where Kenny was, nearly nose to nose. "I tried to help you last night," he pointed out, sounding

angry.

"I didn't ask you to," Kenny said. "And how did you help me? You say you told Brian pretty much everything, and that Adam called

my folks. So now, I gotta go home, and listen to my mom carry on about why I can't behave like a southern gentleman."

With a suddenness that startled me, Guthrie gave Kenny a shove. "I was tryin' to keep you from killing yourself. Or somebody

else on the road."

"I can hold my liquor, Guth. Nobody was in any danger."

"Idiot," Guthrie said, very, very quietly, but with a straight stare at Kenny.

After a moment's silence, Kenny sighed. "You're probably right."

Guthrie gave him another shove, and then turned to stalk back down the hallway to his bedroom.

Kenny stood there, watching, and when Guthrie's door had closed, he turned to head towards the stairs.

I'd opened my door wider as Guthrie walked away, so Kenny saw me standing there. He didn't seem startled, or

even surprised.

He paused, looking at me.

"Guthrie's right," I said. "You are an idiot."

"Oh, I know what you think of me, Harlie," he said, sounding resigned.

"And I know that you don't care," I accused. "And that's okay. But you should care what Guthrie thinks."

"I care," he said quietly.

"If you did, then you'd stay around until breakfast, and take everything that's coming to you. You owe Guthrie that much. He

tried to help you!" I said.

"Why don't you stay out of stuff, that you don't understand anything about, Harlie." He turned and walked towards the stairs.

He was midway down, when I came out of my bedroom, following.

"Maybe I should go outside with you," I said, in heavy whispered sarcasm. "Warrior might decide to try and take another bite out of you."

"One of these days that dog of yours is gonna go after the wrong person, Harlie, I'm just sayin'," Kenny said, and kept

walking.

Kenny was at the front door by now, opening it, and I saw a truck parked next to the house in the early morning light. He was out the

door, and I went down the rest of the stairs, going to the front window to look out.

I lifted the edge of the curtain.

"What's happening?" a voice behind me spoke.

I jumped a little, and then said, with a nod outside, "Kenny's leaving."

Adam lifted the curtain a bit higher so he could see out as well. "I see that." He sounded sort of sad.

We watched as the truck backed up, nearly over Hannah's flowers in front, and then peeled out a little, throwing rocks, and

then spun down the driveway.

"Well," Adam said, letting the curtain drop. "That's that."

He ran a hand over my back. "What do you say we go get breakfast started, huh?"

I nodded in reply, and tagged after him as he went to the kitchen, turning on the lights, and starting the coffee pot.

I went to the cabinet and began taking down plates and cups, and then began to set the table.

"Are you mad?" I asked him. "Because he left like that?"

"No, sugar, I'm not mad," he said, and went to pull out the egg skillet. "Get the eggs out for me, will you?"

I set the stack of plates on the table, and went to retrieve the two cartons of eggs. I put them down on the counter, and

then watched for a moment, as he began to heat up the skillet.

"Will you make omelets?" I asked him. And then, when he looked at me, I said, "Please?"

"Get out the cheese," he said. "And then chop up some ham to put in them."

"Okay," I said, and went to do those things.

We were working, alongside of each other, in companionable silence, preparing things to go into the omelets, and both

of us drinking coffee.

"Guthrie's upset," I said, after a bit.

When Adam was silent, I went on. "He tried to get Kenny to stay this morning. He told him that he needed to

talk to you and Brian. Kenny wouldn't listen, though."

"I don't think Kenny's really in a mind-set to listen to anybody right now," Adam said.

"Guthrie told him he's an idiot," I said.

"Well," Adam said. And though that's all he said, I could tell that he agreed with Guthrie.

"He was just trying to help Kenny," I said, casually, handing Adam the extra cheese grated in a bowl. "By bringing him here,

I mean."

Adam turned to give me a look. "Are you trying to make a certain point? Or just defending your brother?"

I shrugged lightly, feeling my face get a little warm. "Just defending, I guess."

Adam went back to his omelet-preparing, and I finished setting the table, and then hoisted myself up onto the counter beside

the stove, to watch him cook.

We could hear the sound of other McFaddens approaching, both from the back stairway, and from the living room. The sound

of boot steps, and the rise and flow of voices.

"Peace and quiet is over," I said, and he nodded.

"Yep," he said, in agreement.

"It was nice, just you and me for awhile," I said.

Adam smiled at me, and then winked. "I agree."

7

Guthrie was stiff and silent at breakfast. His very body language suggested that he didn't want to talk, or interact or

be messed with at all.

As the day's work plans were discussed, everybody ate their omelets and toast with homemade pear jelly. After

breakfast, Clare said she needed to go into town to mail some things for the fall class she was going to take. She offered to

get the groceries that we needed while she was in town.

Brian began to fuss. He told her to wait until later, and he would go with her.

"The post office is closing early today," Clare told him. "Maisie has a wedding to go to, so she's closing at noon."

"Well, you don't have to mail it today, do you?" Brian pointed out.

"I don't have to. But I want to," Clare said, with spirit, and I smiled inwardly.

"I'll go with her," Evan spoke up. "I can get the stuff at the farm supply while we're in town."

"There you go," Clare pointed out. "I'll have my very own bodyguard."

"Alright," Brian said, relenting.

"I can go with you and help," I told Clare, and she smiled at me. "It's fine with me," she said, "If it's okay with the boss man here."

"Fine," Brian said.

So I ran upstairs to pull on my boots. I checked my dresser drawer to see how much money I had tucked away. My savings

had dwindled to almost nothing, and there was only about fifteen dollars.

Still, I thought that I might be able to get a fairly nice birthday gift for Adam with the money. I really had no idea what

to buy, though. Adam's hard to buy a gift for. He doesn't really have any hobbies, because he's always so busy around the

ranch, or with the family. He always says that there's nothing that he needs.

I knew there wasn't much use in it, but I caught up with him out by the barn before we left for town.

"What would you like for your birthday?" I asked him, trying the direct approach.

Typically, his response was a slow smile, and the words, "I don't need anything, sugar."

"Well, what's something that you want?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, looking thoughtful. "How about some molasses cookies?"

"I'll make you cookies, for sure," I told him. "But I want to get you a present, too."

"Save your money," he said, tapping me on the nose with his finger.

"Grrr," I said, in annoyance.

"I have an idea," he said, and I looked at him, actually falling for it.

"What?"

"I'll take a hug every night for a week as my present. And twice a day on the days that have an A in them."

I rolled my eyes at him, and sighed, intent on finding Clare and getting ready to go. "Okay," I said.

"Hey, hey," he said, and I turned back.

"What?"

"First one due right now," he said, and I rolled my eyes again, and went over, reaching up to give him a hug.

"Thank you," he said, releasing me, and smiling.

"You're welcome," I said, and then as I walked away, I called back over my shoulder, "I'm seriously considering to do

that embarrassing picture in the newspaper thing of you-so just beware."

"Uh huh," he said, and turned to walk into the barn, calling back over his own shoulder to me, "If so, I'd have to seriously

consider that backside tanning I promised you."

I was still smiling at our exchange as I met up with Clare, beside Evan's truck.

We'd been waiting for several minutes, Clare and I, talking about Adam's birthday, and whether she had any ideas, when Evan

and Daniel finally appeared.

"Ready, girls?" Daniel asked, in a teasing tone.

"You're coming, too?" I asked, glad about it.

"If it's alright with you," he said dryly.

"I suppose," I said, teasing.

So we crowded into Evan's truck, with him driving, Clare in the middle, and Daniel next to the other window, with me perched

precariously halfway on his lap.

I was complaining about it, good-naturedly, when Daniel said, "Well, I'd let Clare sit on my lap, but I don't think my brother would

like that much," and everybody laughed.

Once in Murphys, we stopped at the hardware store first, then the lumberyard. Clare and I stayed in the truck, while Evan and

Daniel went inside. We were talking, and I had my feet propped up on the dashboard. Clare was offering me a stick of gum,

when I saw Seth rounding the corner of the lumber yard. I noticed that he was wearing the shirt that all the employees there wear,

and I realized that he must be working today.

Keeping in mind my promise to Adam, I had no intention of talking to him, but I thought if he looked my way, I might

wave, at least. He did look my way, but before I could lift my hand in a casual wave, he stopped walking totally, and

glared at me.

There was no mistaking the fact that it was me he was aiming that glare at. His face looked like granite.

"Wow," I said, without thinking about it.

Clare turned to me, and then followed my gaze to where Seth stood.

"Wait a minute," she said, bristling. "Is he looking at YOU like that?"

I turned away and faced frontwards again. "Never mind," I said.

"Well, I do mind," she said, with all the indignation of an older sister for a younger one. "What's his problem?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe I'll go over and have a little chat with him," she said, and I panicked, pulling on her arm.

"Clare, don't," I pleaded. "Just let it go."

"Well, he's going now, anyway," she said, and I turned in time to see Seth disappearing around the back of the lumberyard

building again.

"Have you been having problems with him again?" she asked.

"No. The opposite," I said, and, at her questioning look, I said, "He was actually nice the last time I saw him. He apologized for

being so rotten all those times. He said he was trying to be a better person."

At her quick look of concern, I said, "And before you start worrying, I already told Adam about it."

"Okay," she said.

Evan and Daniel were coming back out of the lumberyard, each of them carrying a sack. Presumably, of nails and other

such interesting things.

"Just because I told Adam, that doesn't mean I want Evan and Daniel to know about it," I said, giving her a pleading look. "Okay?"

"Well," she hesitated. "Alright. Unless we see him again today before we leave town. If we do, and he's still aiming that venom your

way, then I'm going to tell them."

"There's no point to that," I argued. "You don't know how they are-"

"Yes, I do," she argued right back, as the boys opened their respective doors, after putting the sacks into the bed of the

truck.

"Where are we off to now, girls?" Daniel asked, jokingly, as they both slammed their doors. I was squeezed in between Clare and

Daniel now, so it was a tight fit.

"Post office," Clare spoke up.

"Then let's hit Marie's for some pie," Evan suggested.

"I'm all for pie," Clare said.

So we went to the post office, and Evan parked. While Clare went inside to mail her paperwork for her class, Evan said he

was going to walk over to the feed store to talk to Nancy.

"Tell her to come over on her break to have some pie with us," Daniel called after Evan.

Daniel and I sat there for a few minutes, and I saw Seth again. He was crossing the street directly in front of where we

were parked, and he paused at the corner, leaning against a stop sign. He lit a cigarette, and just stared towards us.

I shivered a little. I didn't want to say anything, because I didn't want Daniel to notice. He obviously hadn't seen Seth

standing there, and I didn't want to draw his attention to him.

It was creepy, though, the way that he just stood there, staring towards us.

Seth straightened up from the stop sign, and walked a few paces down the sidewalk, closer to the door of the post office.

Then he leaned again, this time against a post.

Clare opened the door of the post office, and came out, and stopped immediately. She walked towards Seth, and then stopped,

saying something to him. I'm fairly certain it was along the lines of, "Is there something I can help you with?" in a sarcastic tone.

Daniel saw immediately, as he'd heard the door of the post office flap shut the same as I had.

"What the hell-" he muttered, under his breath, and got out of the truck.

"Daniel, don't," I protested, clutching at his arm.

Just as Daniel's feet hit the street, Seth tossed the cigarette to the ground, and then flicked another glance my way, and

walked back across the street.

I scooted over to the edge of the seat, my feet hanging down, as Daniel reached Clare.

There was a muffled conversation, and as Clare started back towards the truck, Daniel stood where he was,

watching Seth walking from a distance.

"Keep moving!" he hollered towards Seth.

"Moving right past you, McFadden!" Seth yelled back, and I saw Maisie looking out the door of the post office, no doubt wondering what

the yelling was about.

Daniel came over and got into the driver's seat, slamming the door, and then looking toward me.

"What's going on?" he demanded curtly.

Before I could answer Clare gave me a push to urge me into the middle of the seat, and climbed into the

other side. "She doesn't know what's going on," she spoke up for me.

I was grateful for her help, but Daniel started the truck engine, and went on, "What is it with you and that kid? He keeps turning

up, like a bad penny or somethin'."

Well, I didn't think that was very fair of Daniel. The way he said it made it sound as though I had something to do with Seth always being

around. I gave Daniel a look to let him know what I thought of his question, and then clamped my lips shut tight.

"What about Evan?" Clare was asking, as Daniel pulled out into the street.

"He can meet us at Marie's," Daniel said, and drove down the street, and turned the corner, parking in front of the café.

Clare climbed out, and I felt, rather than saw, Daniel looking at me, before he too, got out.

"Come on," he said, holding the door open for me.

"I don't want any pie," I said, shortly.

"Come on, toots," Clare said, leaning in her open window. "Let's go have a big cup of Marie's strong coffee."

"Uh uh," I said.

"You could have waited for me," Evan's voice came from behind Daniel, as he and Nancy walked up, hand in hand. "I wasn't that long."

"Hi, Clare," Nancy said. "Hey, wild child," she said to me cheerfully.

Clare said hello, and I managed a 'hi'.

It didn't take a brain surgeon to decipher that there was tension brewing in the cab of the truck.

"What's up?" Evan asked, sensing that tension.

"That Foreman kid," Daniel said, his tone disgusted. "Tryin' to cause trouble."

"What happened?" Evan asked, immediately on edge. Then, without waiting for a reply from Daniel, he looked to me. "Is he startin' up with you again?"

"Let's go in and have our pie," Clare suggested, in an attempt to mediate. "We can talk about it in there."

"Okay," Daniel agreed, and as Clare, Nancy and Evan stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of the café, and then paused to

wait, Daniel, who was still holding the door, said, "Come on. Let's go in," to me.

"I said that I don't want any pie," I said.

"Well, you're not stayin' out here in the truck," Daniel said, sounding irritated.

"Oh, that's right," I said, with sarcasm. "Seth might come and kidnap me. Just steal me right away, in broad daylight."

"You're gettin' real close to the brat mark," Daniel said.

"Oh, well," I said, carelessly, and pointedly looked down at my fingernails, picking at a cuticle.

Daniel slammed the truck door then, and went on into the café, following the others who had already gone inside.

I could see where they chose to sit. It was a table near the window. I saw Marie come over to greet them, and then the four of

them began to converse as Marie bustled away.

I saw all of them casting glances out towards the truck every couple of moments, and I felt like crying suddenly.

How did a simple trip to town turn into such a mess? I thought for a few minutes, about what might have made Seth change

from being so sweet and reasonable, to his more typical scary self. Then it dawned on me that it might be

because the sheriff had come to question him again, asking him about he and his friend being hired to look for fences in the area.

I'd only told Adam that yesterday. Could the sheriff have moved that quickly, to go and question Seth?

I felt my heart sort of sink. That would explain his anger, alright. But had he really thought that I wouldn't tell somebody

what he'd said?

I saw the door to the café opening, and Daniel came back out, coming up to the driver's side open window, and resting his

hands there.

"Squirt," he said, quietly.

I kept my head down, looking at my nails.

"Hey," he said. "Why are you behaving this way?"

"I don't think you should accuse me of something, when you don't know the whole story," I said, still avoiding his eye.

"I didn't accuse you of anything," Daniel denied.

"Well, you were thinking it," I said. "That's why I asked Clare not to say anything to you and Evan, about the way he was looking

at me. Because I knew you'd jump to conclusions."

I turned to look at him. "And, besides, Adam already knows."

"How could he know about today?" Daniel asked.

"I don't mean about today. He knows about-" I hesitated, and then looked back down at my fingernails. "Never mind."

Daniel sighed. "Alright. Let's just let it go for right now. We can talk about it later. Marie wants to talk to you. Come on inside."

I sat, feeling stubborn.

Daniel opened the truck door, and said, "If I owe you an apology, after we've talked later, then I'll give you one. But right now, I want you

to come in."

I hesitated, another moment or two, and Daniel said, "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Now, come on."

I had no desire to make a bad morning turn worse, so I scooted across the seat, and got out.

7


	34. The way of it

As soon as Daniel and I had stepped back inside of the café, Maria turned from where she was sitting plates of pie onto the

table, and came over to me, giving me a tight, warm hug. She held her hands on my shoulders, even after she'd stopped hugging.

"I've missed you, honey girl," she said, quietly.

"I've missed you, too," I said.

"What is this business of not coming inside to see me?" she asked me then.

I gave Daniel a passing glance as he went around us, and back to the booth, where everybody was sitting.

"I just get tired of explaining myself to a dozen people," I complained, but only loud enough for her to hear, and no one else.

"There is a passel of them, that's for certain," she said, and gave me a smile that spoke of her fondness for me.

She patted my cheek, and then said, "What would you like? How about some strawberry shortcake? Not too much sugar in that."

"I don't think I want any," I said. "But thanks, anyway."

"Well, I'll bring you a glass of lemonade, how about that?" she asked.

"Sounds good," I said,

When she'd headed back towards the café kitchen, I went reluctantly over to the booth where they were all sitting. Daniel had pulled

a chair up, and with Evan and Nancy on one side of the booth, that left an empty spot beside Clare. I slid into the booth seat beside

her, and she gave my hand a squeeze under the table.

They all four were eating pie, all apples, with the exception of Nancy, who was eating a piece of cherry.

Marie brought over my glass of lemonade, and then went back to wait on a couple who had just arrived.

"No pie?" Clare asked me, quietly.

"No."

"You could, you know. A piece of pie isn't going to cause huge problems."

"I don't want any," I said, quietly. Truth be told, my stomach was churning, and I wished that we had just headed on home.

This little 'supposed to be fun' excursion to get pie together didn't have any appeal for me any longer.

I wondered why life always had to be so complicated. I mean, I didn't like being bored, like I'd been at the beginning

of the summer, when I'd been on my long grounding from Adam.

But, I didn't like this, either. All the mystery about the shots being fired, and damage done. Warrior getting hurt, and

all this upset about Kenny. And now Seth.

I knew that the four of them had already discussed everything that had transpired during our time in town. It was

horrible waiting for somebody to bring it up. Like waiting for the ax to fall, sort of.

Nancy looked sympathetic, and I knew Clare was the same. Daniel looked like he was thinking hard, sort of

an intenseness about him. And Evan, well, he looked as though his temper was on high simmer.

"I don't know why Seth did that," I said. I couldn't stand waiting any longer. Might as well just pull up the drawbridge on

my own.

"I'd understand if it was at all of us," Daniel said. "But it was directed at you, personally. Clare says it

was pretty intense, the way he was looking at you."

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's alright."

It's not alright," Evan said, raising his voice. "There's nothing remotely alright about it!"

Nancy shushed him, and, while I appreciated that, it didn't really seem to help.

"I think he's mad because the sheriff might have talked to him again," I said.

Both Evan and Daniel looked puzzled, and I stirred my straw around in my lemonade.

"You mean, talked to him since the first time?" Clare clarified.

"Yeah." I sighed a little. "I already talked to Adam about this."

"About what?" Evan asked, in irritation.

So, I briefly, very briefly, repeated what Seth had told me, about being hired to go out and look at fence placements

in our entire area.

"And, so I told Adam that, and he was going to call the sheriff," I finished.

I hoped that would be enough to satisfy both Daniel and Evan, at least for the time being, but, of course that

was not to be.

Next came the question that I dreaded most. "When did Foreman tell you that?" Evan asked me. He'd only finished half

his pie, and had laid his fork down.

"I already talked to Adam about it," I repeated.

"Adam isn't here," Evan said, practically in a growl. "I'm asking you. Daniel's asking you. Now answer."

"I don't see why we have to do this here," I protested, feeling as though I was going to cry. "It's embarrassing."

"They're not trying to embarrass you, toots," Clare said, really softly, and squeezed my hand again. "They're just

worried."

"I know," I said.

"And, I'm worried, too," Clare said. "I mean, it was frightening the way he was looking at you. I wouldn't

trust him." She turned towards me a little more. "I'm scared for you, Harlie."

I saw the compassion in her eyes, and I knew she meant her words to help. But Clare doesn't have

seven brothers. Most of whom have spent the whole of my life doing just what Evan and Daniel were

doing right now. There's no way she could understand totally.

"He told me the other day," I said, giving in. "Last week."

"On the phone?" Evan asked.

I thought about lying. I thought about just letting Evan think that it had happened on the telephone. It would be so much

easier. But, besides Adam already knowing the truth, I really didn't want to lie to them. I'd already lied to them both

about it when it actually happened. Evan had asked me who I'd been talking to behind the store that day, and I'd

gotten all riled up, and told them nobody.

So I took a deep breath, and reached for Clare's hand, where no one else could see.

"No. Not on the phone," I said. "I saw him at the store."

"What store? When?" Evan demanded, not understanding.

"The grocery store. Last week," I said, and then waited. It took both Daniel and Evan about the same amount of time to

reach the conclusion. The conclusion that I'd been with the both of them when it happened, and had lied about it.

Evan sort of sat back with a snap, against the booth seat. "You're kidding me," he said, sounding midway between

disbelief and anger.

I sat there, not saying anything, and trying not to let my gaze flicker away from either of them.

"So, besides the fact that you lied to us about it, what are you doin' even talking to him at all?" Evan demanded.

"It just happened," I said. I knew that such statement would not impress them, but I couldn't think of what else to say.

"Bullshit," Evan said. "It didn't 'just happen'."

"Sometimes things do just happen, that way," Nancy said, speaking up for the first time. Evan turned to give her

a look, and Nancy gave it right back.

"They do, Evan," she maintained.

Evan sort of gave a 'humph' sound, and crossed his arms.

Marie came over then, and laid her hand on Daniel's shoulder. "This is a sorrowful looking group," she said, lightly.

Daniel gave a half-smile to Marie, and said, "Good pie, as always."

"Sit down and join us," Clare said, leaning around me to say to Marie.

"Oh, I've got to get ready for the lunch rush," Marie said.

"Well, we need to be goin', anyway," Evan said, and stood up.

"Yeah. We do," Daniel said. He stood up, and gave Marie a kiss on her leathered cheek.

We all said goodbye, and Marie gave me another quick hug.

"You want to make some extra money sometime," she said. "Come in and help out here. I'm down a waitress on Wednesdays

and Fridays."

"That'd be good," I said, though I wasn't sure what the family would have to say. "I'll talk to Adam."

On the way out, and in front of the café on the sidewalk, Clare said, "We still need to get a few groceries."

"Well, let's do it," Daniel said.

"I've got to get back to work," Nancy said, and Evan said he would walk back over with her.

That left Daniel, Clare and I to get back into the truck, and drive the short distance to the grocery store.

I thought seriously about not getting out once Daniel had parked. I mean, I'd gotten out at the café, at Daniel's insistence,

and been grilled with questions. So, I didn't see any reason why I couldn't stay out in the truck now.

But it was a moot point, really, because Daniel stood beside the open driver's side door, and gave a 'come on' motion

with his other hand.

So I went into the store, too, where Daniel pushed the cart, while Clare looked over the list.

"It's not too many things," she said, looking down the first aisle.

"What do we need?" Daniel asked, reading over her shoulder.

"Some more BBQ sauce," Clare said. "Crane said he was going to do some ribs for Adam's birthday."

"Adam likes his BBQ," Daniel said.

I remembered then that I hadn't gotten Adam anything for his birthday. That made me feel even worse right then. I sort

of just followed along behind Daniel and Clare while they got the things on the grocery list.

"Do we have enough sugar?" Clare asked, turning to me for the answer. "It's not on the list, but I know Hannah was

going to do some baking. The birthday cake and all."

I tried to push my own stuff back in my mind, and think about the sugar container up in the cabinet at home.

"Half-full or so, I think," I said.

"Well, I'll get another bag of sugar, just to be sure," Clare said.

Clare went ahead of us then, and Daniel slowed down a bit, so that I was walking right beside him, while he pushed the cart.

"What are you thinkin' about?" he asked me, quietly.

I shrugged, and shook my head in answer.

"You should have just told us, Ev and me, about the day here in the store," he said.

"So what happened today could have happened then?" I pointed out, watching Clare as she went around

the corner aisle.

"This is more about you lying to us, than it is about you exchanging a few words with that kid," Daniel said.

I looked at Daniel then, considering what he said.

"It's hard," I said, "Always having to measure up to what you guys expect of me."

Daniel stopped pushing the cart, coming to a halt right there in the middle of the aisle. I stopped, too, surprised at the look on

his face. It was one of surprise. And hurt.

"Am I that hard to please?" he asked. "Is that what you think of me?"

His hurt, it hurt me. I hadn't meant to wound his feelings. I was irritated at both he and Evan, and dreading getting

more lectures from them, but I hadn't meant to hurt him.

"Not usually," I said, trying to sound conciliatory.

Daniel still looked serious, pensive.

"I'm sorry, Daniel," I said. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

After a moment, Daniel said, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, either. By sounding as though I was accusing you of

something. I didn't intend for it to sound that way. I'm sorry if it did."

For a second or two, I thought I was going to tear up. I bit at my lip. "I shouldn't have lied about talking to Seth," I admitted.

"No," he said, quietly.

"Sorry about that, too," I said.

"Okay," he said, still sort of quietly.

Clare came around the corner and stood there, her arms full of several bottles of BBQ sauce. "Hey, you two," she said. "How about

some help here?"

Daniel sort of grinned at me, and then gave the cart a push with one foot, and hopped on, careening down the aisle.

He looked back towards me. "Try to keep up," he joked.

"You weirdo," I said, and went to catch up.

7

After we were done inside the store, and coming back out, it was to find Evan sitting on the tail gate of his truck.

"You could have come inside and helped, you know," Daniel pointed out.

Evan, holding a bottle of strawberry pop, took a drink, and said, "I figured you had it under control."

We put the groceries in the back of the truck, and climbed back into the cab, heading towards home.

I was squeezed in between Evan and Clare this time, with Clare next to Daniel.

I could still feel tension from Evan, and I wanted for it to be over. But, in front of Daniel and Clare, I didn't want

to start up with him. He was likely not done hollering at me, and I'd just as soon do that part of it in private.

We talked about Adam's birthday some more, and I said, with regret, "I don't have a present for him."

"You know how Adam is," Daniel said. "He won't care about that."

"I know," I said, with a sigh. "But I'd still like to get him something. Not just any old thing at all. Something great."

It was when we were almost home that I first noticed Evan's hand. It was his right one, which he'd had resting on his

leg most of the drive home. Afterwards, I didn't know how I'd missed seeing it all that time.

His knuckles were scraped, and raw looking. I looked closer, without being obvious about it. Then, I thought that

he must have done it while choring earlier, and I just hadn't noticed.

Parking, in the driveway, Daniel and Clare got out, and both grabbed a couple of bags.

"You two get the rest?" Daniel asked, as he and Clare went up the front steps.

"Yeah," Evan said.

He got out, reaching for another sack of groceries, and then stood there, looking at me, as I just sat there in the

seat, not moving.

"I'm sorry about lying to you and Daniel. Saying that I hadn't been talking to anyone, when I had," I said, quietly, looking out

the windshield straight ahead, and not at him.

I heard Evan sigh heavily, and then he said, "That guy is bad news, Harlie. He's a loser. Worse than a loser."

"Yeah," I said, in resignation.

"He'd hurt you, if he had the chance," Evan said, and I turned to look at him.

"You really think so?" I asked, feeling my heart flutter with nervousness.

"Yeah. I do."

I bit at my lip again, and I guess Evan could see that he'd succeeded in scaring me, because he said, "I'm not gonna let that

happen, though. None of us will. But you can't lie, just because you think we're gonna yell at you or somethin'."

I nodded. "Got it," I said.

"Alright. Well, come on, and help carry some of this stuff in," he said.

7

Predictably, everybody was all stirred up about Seth, when it was explained by Clare and Daniel how he'd

been looking at me, all threatening and like that.

I honestly thought Hannah was going to come unglued. She laced her hands together, and then twisted them, looking frightened.

"This is unbelieveable," she said.

We were all sitting at the kitchen table, after having finished a simple lunch of sandwiches and chips.

"It was pretty unnerving," Clare admitted.

"But there goes your wife," Daniel said to Brian, "Walking right up that punk, and gettin' in his face,

wanting to know what in the heck he thought he was doin'."

Daniel's look at Clare was admiring. "Spunky," he said with a grin.

"I'm not so sure that I think that was a good idea at all," Brian said, sounding a little mad.

"Brian-" Clare said.

"We'll talk about it later," he said shortly, and Clare gave him a worried look, and then was quiet.

"Likely the kid was mad, due to the sheriff talking to him," Adam said.

"What difference does it make why he's mad?" Hannah said, in an uncustomary burst of temper. "The point of it being, that he is!"

I shot Adam a glance at the other end of the table, feeling my stomach tighten with nerves.

"Hannah," he said, really quietly.

Hannah looked towards him, and then gave a sigh, and seemed to try to settle down.

The atmosphere at the table was tense. I felt so, so badly right then. All because I'd talked to Seth in the grocery store, and

taken him at his word, that he was trying harder to be a good person, well, now everything was a mess. The family was all upset,

and worried about me, and Seth was giving me looks that chilled me thru and thru.

I got up, sort of suddenly, and said, "Excuse me," and went out the back door, going over to the hammock. Clarence, who'd been

sleeping in the sun near the back step, got up to follow me. I hoisted him into the hammock first, and then

situated myself in it.

I rubbed Clarence's velvet ear, and closed my eyes, thinking.

After just a few minutes, I felt somebody take hold of the toe of my sneaker and shake it back and forth.

I opened my eyes, to look up at Ford.

"Hey, you," he said.

"Hey."

"Move over," he said then, and while I tried to move over in the hammock, which isn't the easiest thing in the world,

Ford flopped alongside of me.

Clarence gave a groan of protest.

"Sorry, boy," Ford said to him.

After a couple of moments of silence, I asked, "Are they still talking about it?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Great," I said, with sarcasm.

"It'll be alright, Har," he said, in his quiet sort of way. Soothing.

"Sure," I said dully.

"Don't doubt me," he said, giving me a jab in the ribs with his elbow.

"Oh, okay," I said, and we were quiet again.

After awhile, we were just looking at the clouds overhead, pointing out the ones that appeared to be certain figures or shapes.

We both heard the motor of an engine, turning into our driveway.

"Somebody's here," Ford said, but neither one of us moved right then. We could hear voices coming from around the front of

the house, but couldn't make out the words.

Ford got up, and went to look around the corner of the house.

"It's a sheriff's car," he said.

"Really?" I asked, and scrambled out of the hammock, leaving Clarence, and going to stand beside Ford.

"Do you think maybe they've found out something, about all the stuff going on around here?" I asked Ford.

"Maybe so," he said.

The back screen door was pushed open, and Crane stood there.

"Hey, you two," he said. "Come on inside."

Ford and I headed towards the door.

"What's up?" Ford asked him.

Without really answering, Crane just ushered us inside, and when I looked up at him, I could tell he was

upset.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"Just come on in," he said.

Once in the kitchen, Crane led the way, and Ford and I followed as he went back thru, towards the living room. Once there,

I was struck immediately by the tension in the room. A deputy stood there, a pad of paper in one hand and a pen in the other.

He was just sort of standing there, in the middle of the room, and everybody else was standing up, too, in a cluster.

Clare was talking, while the deputy was writing things down.

"It was really frightening," she was saying. "There was no mistaking his intent. He did not mean it in a harmless way." She sounded

sort of mad.

"And this was twice?" he asked her.

"Yes. Twice," she said, and I, listening to the conversation thus far, wondered if the family had called the deputy to report Seth. I thought

that was sort of crazy. I mean, for looking at me? Even if was a menacing way, it wasn't against any law, was it?

"Here's Harlie," Adam said, looking to his side and seeing Ford and I walking in.

Adam held out his arm and I went to stand next to him, where he put his arm around my waist.

The deputy nodded to me, in greeting, I guess.

"I understand there was a bit of problem in town today," he said to me. "Concerning Seth Foreman?"

Everybody was looking at me, and I felt so uncomfortable.

"Yes," I said.

"Your sister-in-law says he seemed angry, threatening in a way," the deputy went on.

To deny it would be a lie. Absurd. "Yes," I said.

"He has a history of violence with females," Hannah spoke up.

"Uh huh," the deputy said, writing away.

After a moment he looked up from his pad. "I understand your concern, and we will definitely talk to him about this. I have a daughter

of my own, and I would most likely have similar feelings as you did," he said, and he looked at Evan.

"But," the deputy went on, "That in no way justifies what you did."

I looked at Evan, and his face was like stone. Set, and he looked funny. As in, peculiar funny, not ha-ha funny. What was the deputy

talking about, I wondered. What was it that Evan had done?

I looked around the circle at the rest of the family, and everybody's expression pretty much mirrored Evan's. They all apparently knew

what was going on. Only Ford and I did not.

I wanted to ask what they were talking about, but I was sort of scared to. And besides, Adam spoke up before I could.

"We understand that," he said, sounding grim. And then he said, "I'm not saying that it was the best idea, but we've had

problems with this kid before. And for Harlie, or any of my family, to feel unsafe on the streets of their own town, well, that's

not okay."

"As I said, I understand your feelings in this," the deputy said, as if trying to pacify Adam.

"He had it coming," Brian said, sounding furious.

"Brian," Clare said, really low, pulling at his arm to hush him.

The deputy gave Brian a look, obviously not impressed by his show of temper.

The deputy tucked his pad of paper back into his shirt pocket. "Well, as of right now, we'll call this situation, no harm no foul. But

if he chooses to press charges, then that would be his right, since Evan was the one who precipitated it. I just came out now to

get his side of the story."

What? Now I was really confused. I looked at Evan, as the deputy took his leave, with Crane walking him out.

Evan stood there for a moment, and then sat down on the arm of the couch.

Hannah moved to lean down and press her cheek against Evan's. "Oh, Evan," she said.

"What happened?" I asked, as Crane came back inside, and closed the door. Thru the window I could see the deputy's

car going down the driveway.

Nobody really answered me, and I said again, a little louder, "What happened?"

"Evan decided to convince Foreman to stay away from you," Adam said, and now he sounded angry. He went to sink to

a seat on the couch, sighing heavily.

I looked at Evan more closely, and then let my eyes drift to his hand. Scraped, and red.

"You didn't," I said, almost in a whisper.

"Oh, he did," Brian said.

"Oh, Ev," I said, suddenly frightened so much more for Evan than I was for myself, or of Seth.

Evan gave a slight shrug. "I meant it to be a talking conversation," he said. He ran his other hand over the sore one. "It didn't

turn out that way."

7


	35. Cloverleaf pattern

The day went on as usual after that, as far as chores were concerned. But everybody was quieter. Tense. I did know that Clare

insisted on Evan putting some ice on his hand, and then some antibiotic ointment on the cuts. After that, Evan went outside to

work, just as though it was any other day.

I helped Hannah with things inside the house, and then later I offered to take Isaac outside for a walk in his stroller. Hannah, who had been

quiet, and pensive, seemed appreciative of my offer.

I pushed Isaac down our long driveway, talking to him about the trees and the clouds, just as though he would understand every

word I said. He babbled his happy baby talk to me in answer.

Once I was pushing the stroller back again, I saw Guthrie near the barn, his head underneath the upraised hood of his truck. There wasn't

anybody else around nearby that I could see, so I took Isaac out of his stroller, and carried him over to where Guthrie was.

"Hey," I greeted him.

"Hey," he said, without looking up from what he was doing.

"Something wrong with your truck?" I asked.

"No. Just checkin' the oil."

"Oh."

Isaac, close enough to reach out, tried to grab hold of Guthrie's shirt, and Guthrie paused to look at him.

"Hey there, Scooter," he said, and poked Isaac gently in his belly.

The baby laughed out loud in joy.

I sat Isaac up where he was sitting on the edge, and as observant as he is, he kept looking all around.

"Have you talked to Kenny?" I asked Guthrie.

"Nope."

"Adam didn't seem angry when we were fixing breakfast together," I said, hoping that he would go on and talk to me.

"Maybe not to you," he said.

"So he was mad?" I asked.

"He wasn't happy," Guthrie said cryptically.

"Oh." I waited a couple of moments, and pulled Isaac's hand back from reaching toward the oil rag that Guthrie had

laying there.

"Did you get into trouble? For having Kenny here?" I asked.

"Got a long lecture," Guthrie said, peering down into the motor.

"Oh," I said, thinking that wasn't too bad. Before I could say that, though, Guthrie went on,

"Told me to stay home this weekend. I think he still feels as though I was drinkin'."

I hesitated, wanting to say something that would make Guthrie feel better. "Maybe he doesn't," I said.

"Doesn't matter," Guthrie said. Then, "Watch out. I'm gonna slam the hood down."

I picked Isaac up and stepped back, as Guthrie closed the hood of the truck.

He started wiping his hands with the rag then, and I studied his face, feeling worried.

"Why doesn't it matter?" I asked him.

"If he wants to think it, there's nothin' I can do about it," Guthrie said, and even though he tried to sound

unbothered, I could tell that he was upset.

I knew how he felt. It feels so bad to have somebody think something about you that isn't true. Especially when

it's one of the three, Adam, Brian or Crane. I'd been in the same position myself. I wanted to tell him that I knew he didn't mean

it about it not mattering. It did matter. A lot. But I decided to keep my comments to myself.

After a couple of long moments of silence, I said, "It's about time for Isaac's nap. Want to go fishing?"

Guthrie sighed a little. "Oh, I don't know, Har," he said, without enthusiasm.

"Come on," I coaxed. "Unless you think I'll out fish you."

"No chance of that," he scoffed, and I was glad to see the grin on his face.

"So?" I asked, waiting. "You want to?"

"Yeah. Sure," he said.

So we went. Guthrie and I. We sat on the banks of the creek, and fished. I'd changed to shorts before we went, and

now, sitting there, I took off my boots and then my socks, plunging my feet into the cool mud on the side.

During the next hour, at some point, Ford wandered down to join us, a fishing pole in his hand.

"They biting today?" he asked us.

"Naw," Guthrie said.

After awhile, Ford laid back on the grassy slope, putting his arms under his head and closing his eyes.

"Tell me if I get a bite," he told us.

It wasn't much longer after that, Guthrie and I heard Ford snoring softly.

Guthrie heard it first, and nudged me, nodding towards Ford. We grinned at each other.

"Some fisherman," Guthrie said. "If he gets a bite, I'm gonna snag it and tell him I caught it."

"Sounds fair to me," I said.

After another few minutes, with neither of us getting even one nibble, I pulled my feet up, covered with creek mud.

"Look at my feet," I told Guthrie, holding one out as if I was going to touch him with it.

"Don't even think it," Guthrie ordered.

I giggled, and put my foot down again. Then, feeling mischievious, I swiped a handful of the cool mud, and scooted

over to Ford, letting it drip onto his shirt.

When his eyes popped open, I scooted back. "Have a good nap?" I asked him.

Ford sat up. "Did I get a bite?" he asked, reaching for his fishing pole. When he saw the front of his t-shirt, dotted with

mud, he said, "Gosh darn it, Guthrie!"

"Don't blame me," Guthrie protested.

I'd reseated myself, and was reeling in my line, and preparing to recast, when Ford said, "Alright, Har," in a threatening sort

of way.

"What?" I asked him, widening my eyes.

"Listen to her," Ford said to Guthrie. "Miss Innocence." He mimicked me, "What?" in a high-pitched voice.

"I don't sound like that," I protested.

"Now I'm really gonna smell like fish," Ford said, taking a sniff of his t-shirt.

"Maybe if you smell like a fish, then you'll actually have a chance to catch one," I said.

"Yeah?" Ford challenged.

"Yeah."

"Hmm," Ford said, and then he got up, walking behind me. I twisted around to watch him.

"What's the matter, Har?" he asked me.

"I don't trust you-" I said, laughing.

"You wound me, Har," Ford said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "You really do."

"Right," I said, still scooting away as he walked beside me.

Ford sat down beside me, and smiled, and then, before I could scoot away further, he wrapped one arm around my shoulders,

to hold me still, and reached down to grab some mud in the other hand.

He held it threateningly near to my face, while I squirmed and tried to get away.

"Should I, Guthrie?" he asked, as if considering.

"Leave me out of it," Guthrie said.

"Guth-reeee," I squealed in protest.

"I could make you eat this mud," Ford said, very calmly, smiling at me. "You know that, right?"

"But you won't," I said.

"Oh, yeah? Why won't I?" he countered.

"Because you're so so nice," I said, giggling. "You're the nicest brother in the county. In the whole state!"

As he brought the clammy mud close to my face again, I hollered, "The nicest brother in the whole world!"

Ford paused, holding his hand still. "The whole world, huh?" he asked, as if still considering.

"Absolutely!" I said, and Ford nodded, letting go of me.

I was still laughing, when a moment later, he caught me unaware, and rubbed the handful of mud into the top of my hair.

7

I retaliated, to the best of my ability, and Ford and I both ended up, knee deep in the creek, tossing mud at one another. All while Guthrie

complained that we'd scared the fish away, probably for the rest of the summer.

While I was covered pretty much with creek mud, by the time we were done, I'm proud to say that I held my own against Ford, and

he was dripping with mud, too.

Guthrie, for the most part, stayed out of it, sitting there, and laughing at the two of us. When Ford finally quit, and scrambled up the

creek bank, I stood there, still ankle deep in water.

"Come on, Ford," I taunted. "Don't quit now!"

"I'm done," he told me, stopping on the bank above me, and wiping his hands on his already muddy jeans.

"Oh, alright," I said, and began to climb up myself.

Ford stuck his hand out to help me, and I took it, letting him pull me up.

We were both a little breathless after all that exertion, and sat down on the ground to rest.

The talk turned to the evening before, when Kenny had been in the house. Looking back on it later, I think it was Ford that

brought it up. He asked how it came about that Kenny drank so much, or something like that.

"Leave it alone, Ford," Guthrie said, and his face was all closed off.

"I'm just asking," Ford began.

"Well, don't," Guthrie snapped. He gave Ford a hard stare. "Just don't, okay?"

I watched the interaction between them, feeling my stomach knot as it always did when there was about to be an argument.

"It might help you," Ford pressed on. "If you talked it out with somebody. It doesn't have to be me. Somebody else, then. Sometimes,

talking stuff thru helps-"

Guthrie gave his fishing pole a yank, and stood up, reeling it in. Ford and I watched his tense jerky movements for a couple of

moments, and then Ford said, "Guth-"

"I said don't," Guthrie snapped. And with that, he took his pole and stalked away, walking back up the worn path leading

to the house. I looked at Ford to see his reaction to Guthrie's attitude, and he didn't look mad or anything. More somber. And sad.

"Guthrie's hurting," he said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"About more than Kenny drinking too much," Ford continued, thoughtfully, watching as Guthrie disappeared down the path.

"Do you think so?" I asked.

"Yeah. I do." He wiped his hands on his jeans again. "You ready to head back to the house?" he asked.

"Yeah." I went to gather my fishing pole, and the tackle box, and Ford did the same. As we set out walking, he reached

down to take the tackle box from me to carry.

"Do you have to work today?" I asked him.

"Yeah. Later on. About four."

"Oh," I sighed.

"Why?"

"I just wish I could do something," I said, spreading my arms out to my sides, as if I was trying to fly.

"What do you want to do?" Ford asked me, looking amused.

"I don't know. Something. Something big. Something different."

"Way to be specific there, Har," he said.

"It's just-" I tried to put my feelings into words. "Just that this summer is so crazy. All this stuff going on, and because of Seth, like today,

now the family isn't going to want me to go anywhere."

Ford looked sympathetic, but said nothing.

"And Guthrie-" I said, and then let my voice taper off.

"Yeah. I know you're worried about Guthrie."

At the house, Adam was sitting on the front porch with Hannah, drinking iced tea. As Ford and I walked up, Adam only raised

an eyebrow at our muddy appearances, while Hannah sighed.

"Really, you two?" she asked.

"Hey, I had to show Har who was boss," Ford said.

"Spray some presoak on those clothes, or that mud will never come out," she said.

"Yes, ma'm," Ford said, and with a grin, went on inside, letting the front door slam.

"Are you feeling a little calmer, better, after this morning?" Hannah asked me.

"I guess so," I said. "Are you?"

"I'm trying," Hannah said.

"Where's Evan?" I asked.

"He's around somewhere," Adam said.

"Maybe I'll go try to find him," I said. "After I clean up a little."

7

I found Evan later, in the field, practicing his steer wrestling. I hopped up to sit on one of the blue barrels that are in the field, left from

when I used to practice running my barrels with Petra.

I watched Evan throw his rope, catch the steer and then dismount, and finish by tying three legs. Then he untied the rope, rolled

it back into a coil and went back to his horse, and then he did the same thing again. And again.

At the third run, I clapped when he'd finished, and he stood up, as the steer ran free. He walked toward me, rolling his

rope.

"The last one was the best," I called out.

"Yeah?"

"Definitely."

"Wish I knew my time," he said.

"I can time you, if you want," I said.

"You have a watch on?" he asked.

"No."

"Neither do I. It's alright."

"I can go up to the house and get one," I offered.

"Naw, that's okay."

"Why are you doing it out here?" I asked, gesturing to the field. "And not in the corral?"

"More of a challenge," he said.

He'd finished rolling his rope up by now, and I said, quietly, "Does your hand hurt?"

Evan gave me a quick glance, and then shook his head. "Not much."

A couple of moments passed, and I said, "Why'd you do it, Ev?"

Evan went over the few steps to where his horse was, and hooked his rope back over the saddle horn.

When he didn't answer, I said, "Evan."

"That's a dumb question to ask, Harlie."

"You didn't have to, you know," I said. "Seth's mostly all talk, I think."

"Well, I'm not so sure about that."

He swung himself up, and into the saddle, and then sat there, looking at me for a moment.

"How come you never run your barrels anymore?" he asked.

"How come you're changing the subject?" I countered.

"You were pretty good," Evan went on, as though I hadn't spoken. "You ought to start practicing again."

"I wasn't that good," I denied. "I'm slow, compared to the girls that run at the rodeos."

"That's because you don't practice. If you did that, you'd be fast, too."

"Really? You think so?" I asked him.

"Go get your horse," he said.

"What?"

"Go. Get. Your. Horse.," he said, in a drawn out way.

"You want to go riding?" I asked, hopping down from the barrel. I was up for it if he was. Anything to break the monotony.

"No. I want you to run the barrels," he said.

"Right now?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah. Right now. Why not?" he countered. "You got anything better to do?"

"Well," I hesitated and then admitted, "No."

"So go," he said. "Bring a watch when you come."

So I brought a watch, and then saddled Petra, as he was unsaddling his own horse. Then we walked back out to the field, with me leading Petra,

and he held out a hand.

"Give me the watch," he ordered.

I put it in his hand. "I thought you wanted me to time you."

"No. I'm gonna time you."

"Aw, don't do that, Ev. Not today. I haven't done it in a long time."

"Well, we'll see how rusty you really are then, won't we?"

So he stood there, to the side, after we'd reset the barrels, and I readied to begin the first run around them.

"Go!" he said, and I urged Petra into action. All I succeeded in doing, it seemed, was stirring up a bunch of dust. I knocked

the second barrel over, and finished the run, turning to look at him, laughing.

"Thirty-two seconds," he said.

"Hmmm. Pretty bad, huh?"

"Pitiful. Do it again."

I sighed, but decided to humor him. I mean, after all, he had bloodied his knuckles earlier, in my defense. If he wanted me

to show just how awful I really was at running barrels, then so be it.

A few more times around, though, and I was ready to be done with it. My time improved, but only very slightly, and I was reminded

of how hot it was. My hat stayed on, because I had my ponytail pulled thru the hole in the back of the ball cap, but, wearing shorts like

I was, the inside of my thighs were starting to chafe from squeezing the saddle.

"Twenty-five seconds," he proclaimed, as I finished the fourth run. "Then add the five points from knocking another barrel over."

"So?" I said, pulling Petra up, and looking down at him, irritated. "I told you that I sucked at it."

"You wouldn't if you practiced," he insisted. "It's too bad."

"Well, I'm tired," I complained. "And my skin's all irritated." I didn't say just where it was irritated, but he knew exactly, because

his response was an unsympathetic, "Well, you're the knothead who wore Daisy Dukes to ride in."

"Because you told me to come," I protested loudly.

Evan shrugged, and turned to walk back towards the barn. "Okay. So we'll stop, then."

"Gee thanks," I said, a trifle sarcastically, and then began to walk Petra slowly, coming up beside him as he walked.

"What's 'too bad'?" I asked him.

"Huh?"

"You said, 'it's too bad' a minute ago, like you were talking about something."

"Oh, nothin'. Don't worry about it," he said, in a maddening way.

"What is it? Tell me!"

"Just a big rodeo comin' up. They're short on barrel racers, too."

"Where at?" I asked.

"Clovis."

"Why are they short on barrel racers?" I asked then.

"Two rodeos the same weekend. Better prize money at the other one. Most of the girls are goin' there."

I stared down at him incredulously, as he opened the pasture gate, and I rode Petra thru. I waited while he closed it again, and

then said, "Are you saying you think I should try to enter?"

"I didn't say that, did I?"

"Well, no. But you said, 'it's too bad', to me. Like you wanted me to."

"Better cool Petra down before you put her away," he said.

"I know that," I said, and dismounted, wincing as I did so.

I saw his flash of amusement before he masked it.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"Nothin'. Not a darn thing," he said, and started walking towards the house.

"I'd try if I thought I was any good, Ev," I said to his retreating back.

"Sure," he said, and kept walking.

"Do you want me to?!" I hollered, feeling frustrated.

Evan turned around, and walked backwards, as he said, "Naw. I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"How would I get hurt?" I yelled back.

"You'd probably fall off your horse or somethin'," he said, and then he gave a half-smile and shook his head. "Those other

girls would kick your tail." He held his hands out from his sides in a wide gesture. "It'd be real embarrassing for ya. You're right

to not want to do it."

Then he turned around, and kept walking.

"I could, you know!" I yelled. "If I wanted to! And I'd be darn good, too!"

I couldn't be sure, but I thought I heard Evan chuckle.

7


	36. Ribs and wishes

The next two days passed, in relative calmness. At least nothing new on the Seth-fracas front. No sheriff's car pulled up in our driveway, intent

on arresting Evan. Kenny didn't come around, and I didn't know if Guthrie had talked to him or not. Guthrie, himself, was still somber,

and mostly silent.

On each of the early mornings of both of those two days, I was up much earlier than usual, and had gulped down oatmeal for breakfast,

drank my fill of coffee, usually in relative solitude, since most of the family wasn't up and stirring around yet.

After my breakfast and coffee, I would pull on my boots, and head out to saddle Petra, and then work for an hour or more running

those barrels, mostly before the sun had entirely made its appearance.

It was the second day when I was on my third run, that I looked over and saw Adam standing there, his arms crossed,

watching me.

I pulled Petra to a stop as I rounded the last barrel, and then loped over to where he stood.

"Good morning," I told him.

"Good morning," he said. He reached up to run his hand over Petra's side, as she sniffed his pockets for treats.

"What's this about?" he said, gesturing towards the barrels. "Two mornings in a row, now. Before the sun's hardly up."

"Just doing some practicing," I said.

"I see that," he said. "How come?"

"Oh, it's Evan-" I began, and then stopped. "I'm just trying to prove something to Evan, I guess."

"Yeah?" he asked, looking questioning.

"Yeah."

"It looks like you're doing alright," he said, in quiet praise.

"I'm just trying to improve my time, without knocking over any barrels."

"Uh huh," he said, looking up at me. "Are you eating before you come out here?"

"Yes." I smiled at him a little. "A delicious, nutritious bowl of oatmeal," I said lightly.

"Okay. Are you finished for today?"

"Almost. I thought I'd take another couple of turns around."

Adam reached down and undid the watch on his wrist, and held it in his hand. "Okay. Let's see how you can do," he said.

"Okay. But don't be shocked when it's a horrible time," I told him, and loped Petra over to begin my pattern.

When I finished, without knocking over any barrels that time, I cantered over to him.

"Twenty-one," he said.

"That's bad," I said.

"I don't think it's so terrible," he defended. "You need to remember that Petra hasn't done it in a long while."

"Yeah, I guess," I conceded, leaning down to pet Petra's neck.

"Come on inside," he said then.

I swung my leg over and jumped down off of Petra, and walked beside Adam as we headed thru the pasture and to the barn.

"Happy birthday," I told him, and he smiled at me.

"Thank you."

"Crane's going to make you some BBQ ribs, for your birthday," I said.

"I'm looking forward to that," he said.

"So," I said, looking up at him, "Molasses cookies?"

"Whatever you want to bake will be good, sugar."

"It'll be time for roundup soon," I said.

"Yep. It will."

"Can I stay the whole time this year?" I asked him.

Usually, I get to go up two or so days out of the five or whatever that the roundup lasts. Then one of the boys rides me back down,

and I stay at the house, helping Hannah, and whatever brother is left at home to tend to chores.

"You know you always come up," he said.

"I know. But the whole time?" I asked.

"We'll see," he said, and I had to be content with that for the time being.

Warrior came running to greet us, followed by Gus, at a much more sedate pace.

"He's back to his old self," Adam said, as Warrior jumped up on him.

Adam unhooked the gate and I led Petra thru, and then waited as he closed and secured it again.

I began to unsaddle Petra, and when I'd loosened the cinch, Adam pulled the saddle off and went to put it up in the

tack shed.

"Thanks," I told him.

"You're welcome."

I rubbed Petra down, and, since he was still standing there, leaning against the fence, watching me, I said,

"Do you think Evan will get into trouble?"

There was the slightest hesitation, and Adam said, "I don't know," and he sounded sort of grim.

"Seth's eighteen now," I volunteered. "So it's not as though he's a minor."

"A stroke in our favor," he said.

As we stood there, a loud, rumbling of an engine came down the road, and then turned at the end of our driveway. A large, semi truck,

the kind that carries cattle, came up the long drive, towards the barn.

"He's early," Adam said, and as I saw that it was, indeed, a cattle truck, I felt my stomach knot a little. I'd felt badly when some of

our cows had to be sold to pay the lawyer bills, when Karissa had filed the custody suit.

"Do we have to sell more cows?" I asked, looking up at Adam in concern.

"No. They're bringing us a bull."

Usually, we AI our cattle. At least the last few years we have. I hadn't known my brothers were talking about buying a bull.

"We're buying him?" I asked.

"No. Just borrowing him for a bit," Adam said. "After you get your horse cooled down, you ought to go in and eat some eggs."

"Okay," I said, and watched as Adam went forward, to greet the driver of the large truck.

He and the driver were having a conversation, and other brothers began to come out of the house. Crane, pulling on his hat, and

then Daniel. And Brian, rubbing his hand over his face as if he was still tired.

I cooled Petra down after her workout, and then turned her back out into the pasture.

When I went into the house, and then into the kitchen, Evan was sitting at the kitchen table, across from Clare, and Guthrie. Hannah

was making a fresh pot of coffee. There was no sign of Ford.

"What's your time?" Evan asked me, and then took a drink of his juice.

"What?" I asked, stopping to look at him.

"Your time. What was it?"

"Twenty-one," I said.

"Better. But still pitiful," he said, shaking his head, as if it were a real tragedy.

When I stood there, my hands on my hips, giving him a look, he grinned at me. That's when I realized that

I'd been had. He'd provoked me deliberately. Goaded me with insults so that I would want to prove to him I could get

faster on the barrels.

I went to pull down a glass, and then poured myself some milk, from the jug on the table.

I took a long drink, and then looked at him over the top of the glass. "You think you're pretty smart, don't you?" I said.

"Got you out there, practicing, didn't it?" he said.

"I was gonna do some baking today," I said, haughtily. "Guess whose favorite cookies I will not be making now."

He just grinned at me again.

7

I spent the majority of the morning baking. Molasses cookies for Adam's birthday, while Hannah worked on his birthday

cake. Then, since I hadn't done it for awhile, I made Crane's favorite, chocolate chip.

After that, Hannah put whoever was in her path, to cleaning, and tidying, and just in general getting the house

looking good enough for company. It wasn't as though we were having a big gathering. Just all of us, and Marie. And Nancy

and Cindy. And Kristin was coming, too. A fact which made me very happy.

When I thought about Doc G, and how he would have come to join us as well, I felt my chest tighten up. I wondered how

long it would be before the thought of him didn't cause an immediate ache.

Later, after the cookies were all baked, and cooling, and the birthday cake had been frosted, and covered to prevent anybody

from licking the frosting, I went outside with Hannah and Clare and we all looked over the fence at the bull. He'd been put

into the pasture with the cows and seemed to making himself right at home.

"He's huge," Clare said, sounding awed.

"Fairly average size for a bull," Brian told her.

From listening to the conversation, I understood that we were 'renting' or borrowing the bull from one of the other ranchers in the

area, Stu Peterson. The deal was, instead of any money changing hands for us to borrow the bull, the Peterson's would get

five of the calves when they were born in the spring.

At lunch, Ford showed everybody one of the flyers that the print shop had put out. It was about the annual Fourth of July

celebration in Murphys, and a list of all the activities that were going to be going on.

Guthrie, who seemed a lot happier since Kristin was coming over, gave me a poke. "Remember when we used to do

the turtle race, Har?"

"Yeah. I remember. My turtles never used to win."

"In a couple of years, Scooter will be able to do the turtle race," Guthrie said.

I saw that there was going to be a street dance held, which is something usually done every year.

I rubbed the bear ring on my pinky finger, wishing that I could go and have at least one dance with Eddie. More than likely, he

would have a date, though, I thought darkly. Probably with a really tall, really blonde girl.

I knew I wouldn't even be able to go at all, unless one or more of my brothers were around somewhere. Thanks to Seth

frightening everybody. Well, he'd scared me too, truthfully. But that didn't mean I didn't want to go.

Guthrie went to get Kristin shortly after that, and Nancy arrived, carrying a covered dish. I went out to say hello to her,

and she greeted me with her usual brightness. "Hey there. I need some muscles. Who's available?"

I looked around and then said, "Ford's still inside, I know."

"He'll do fine. Can you get him?"

I went up the front steps to call inside to Ford, and when he came out, Nancy told him she had two

watermelons in her car, and would he please go and carry them inside?

I held the door for her and then for Ford, as he carried a watermelon in each arm.

So then began the time of setting up long tables in the front yard. One to put all the food on, and one for everybody to

sit at. Folding chairs to be carried. The watermelons were put in coolers on ice. There were cold cans of beer on ice, too, and

lemonade in pitchers.

When the McFaddens have a gathering, they do it up right. Even, if as in this case, it's to celebrate a birthday for somebody

who'd rather not have any fuss made.

7

At the last minute, Hannah told me I could call Steven, and invite him over to eat, if I wanted to. So, I did that, and he arrived

just as everybody was starting to load up their plates with food.

"Better jump in there, Steven," Daniel told him, as Steven stood off to the side a little. "Around here you have to fend for

yourself."

It was a successful evening. Full of fun, and enjoyment. Crane manned the big stone bbq, as was usual, and Cindy sat

beside him, as he watched over the meat. Some of us played a couple of games of croquet, and when they started up another game,

I went to sit beside Crane and Cindy, in the lawn chairs beside the BBQ, where Crane was finishing up the last of the meat.

"Hello, Harlie," Cindy greeted me, with a smile.

"Hi," I said. I still felt sort of awkward about calling her Cindy, even though she'd told me to. I still thought of her as 'Miss Noel'.

"How's your summer going?" she asked me.

"Alright, I guess," I said.

"Oh, I wasn't even thinking about what all is going on around here," she said. "It probably hasn't been that great of a summer

so far, has it?" Cindy said.

"That's alright. It's definitely had its moments."

Crane got up to go open the black door of the bbq, and poke the meat inside, and the smell of smoke filtered thru the air around us.

"Have you thought about what classes you might take when school starts again?" she asked me.

"You mean at school?" I asked. "Or college classes?"

"Either one," she said, with a smile.

"Since I've done all my English classes that are required for high school, then I get to have electives to replace those."

"That's good," she said, looking interested. "What electives do they offer?"

"Art, Band, stuff like that," I said.

"Not a very wide variety, huh?"

"No. Not really. They do have a Journalism class. They're the class that puts out the school newspaper."

Immediately she leaned forward and said, with enthusiasm, "You should do that, Harlie. You're such a gifted writer. It

sounds like it's something you'd enjoy."

I couldn't help the feeling of pleasure that her praise gave me. She was a teacher, after all, and if she thought I could write well,

then it must be so.

"Thanks," I told her. "And, yeah, I've been thinking it is something I might do."

"What else?" she asked.

"Well, I still have to have a science class. I've done biology, so I guess chemistry is next. And then I have to take a math class. Trigonometry."

I guess my feelings about it must have shown a bit, because she said, "Not too excited about that Trig class, huh?"

"No," I admitted.

"You'll do fine," she said, in encouragement.

I gave Crane a look to see if he was listening to our conversation. He'd closed the door again on the BBQ and come back to sit

down. He rested one foot on the opposite knee.

"It sounds as though you'll have quite a bit of homework," Cindy said. "With the chemistry, and then the trig."

I nodded in agreement, and Crane said, "Harlie will do just fine. She's a good student."

I shot Crane a look of appreciation. "Thanks," I told him. "But I think you're a little optimistic sometimes."

"No such thing," he said. "I just know how much you can do when you put your mind to things."

I gave him a slow smile.

"So you're not planning on taking any college classes in the fall?" Cindy asked me then. "Would that be too much for you?"

"I don't know if I am yet," I said.

"There is a fantastic opportunity coming up," she said, and I could tell she was excited by the way her eyes sparkled. "I heard about

it, and I thought of you, right away."

"What is it?" I asked curiously.

"The college I work for, they're offering a program starting in September, where they are going to accept a few high school students.

It would be like a work study program, and during one to two hours of the school day, you would go to a job dealing in the career

you're thinking of entering. You'd get credit from the high school as an elective, and then also get a college credit for it."

"Three full hours worth of credit?" Crane asked, and I could tell that he hadn't known anything about what Cindy was telling me about.

"I'm not certain about that," Cindy said. "But even if it's not, it's still a great opportunity."

"Yeah. It sounds like it," Crane agreed.

"It sounds awesome," I said, already thinking ahead, to if I might be able to do it.

"What's their selection process?" Crane asked.

"The student writes up a letter, about why they want to be considered. Then if they're one of the ones that's

chosen, the one policy they're strict about, is that a 3.5 grade point average has to be maintained in all classes. If it's not, then the

student would be dropped from the program," she explained.

After Cindy said that, I said, "Oh", and looked at Crane. He looked back at me, and then raised one eyebrow, just the

slightest bit. I couldn't really tell what he was thinking.

"It's something for you to think about," Cindy said.

"I will," I told her.

Kristin was spending the night, and Nancy stayed until late. She left after she and Evan stood outside by her car for

a long time in the dark.

Everybody had pitched in to help clean up all the food, and dishes, and fold the chairs back up.

Daniel had played his guitar and Ford played the piano, and we had all sat around and sang for awhile.

It was when I was heading up to bed, that I went to find Adam. He was in the kitchen, and was in the process of rinsing

out the coffee pot, and measuring out the water and coffee for the morning pot.

I went up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He said, "Hey, there sugar," to me, and when he'd set

the coffee pot down, he turned around to face me, leaning against the counter and hugging me back, his arms looped around my

waist.

"Did you like your party?" I asked him.

"It was real nice."

"I wanted to talk to you about your present. I didn't want to buy just anything, just so I'd have a present for you. I sort

of wanted to get you something special," I said.

"That's alright. I don't need anything," he said.

"You always say that."

"Well, it's the truth," he said.

"I'm going to think about it, and sometime when I see something that's just right, then I'll get it for you."

Adam smiled at me, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling a little. "Okay."

"I love you," I said, looking into his tanned face.

"I love you," he said.

"I'd better get upstairs," I told him. "Kristin's probably gonna want to talk on and on about how wonderful Guthrie is, all night long."

"Oh, Lord," he said, and shook his head, in mock seriousness.

I squeezed him one time more, and he kissed the top of my head.

At the bottom of the back stairs, I turned back when he spoke up. "Are you gonna be out there at the crack of dawn, running your

barrels?"

"I think so," I said.

"Alright. I'll see you out there."

"Really?" I asked.

"You need a time keeper, don't you?" he asked.

I smiled at him, thinking how terrific he really is. "That would be great."

7


	37. The latest blow

THERE IS A BIT OF SWEARING IN THIS CHAPTER.

Daniel and I went for a long horseback ride the next afternoon, and when we came back near to the barn, and house, there

was the sheriff's car parked in front. Yet again.

Immediately, I felt my heart go into my throat.

"They've come for Evan!" I said, panicked.

"Maybe not," Daniel said. He sounded all calm, and reassuring, but I could tell he was worried, too.

"Let's hurry," I said, and urged Old Charlie into a run.

I was already at the pasture gate, and off of Charley's back, by the time Daniel caught up with me.

I was tying Charlie's reins onto the fence post, and scrambling over when Daniel said, "Hey, now. Hold up a second."

I had dropped to the other side of the gate, and I stopped walking to look back at him, where he was now dismounting

his own horse.

"What?" I asked, impatiently.

"You can't go tearing in there, like your hair's on fire," he told me.

"I'm not," I protested. "But I'm worried! Aren't you?"

"Of course I am. Come unsaddle Charlie first."

"He'll be fine. I want to go in and see what's going on-"

"Squirt," Daniel said, his voice rising over mine. "Come on." He motioned me back towards the fence, to where Charlie was waiting

patiently, swishing at flies with his tail.

"Good grief," I said, in protest, and went to climb back over the fence, where I unsaddled Charlie, and hoisted the saddle to sit

over the gate. I slid the bridle over his ears, and then followed Daniel. He had opened the gate, and had his own saddle in one hand.

I tugged my saddle off of the gate, and followed Daniel to the tack shed. We put our saddles back onto their saddle horses, and hung

up the bridles.

Even then, walking toward the house, Daniel was telling me not to rush in.

When we did go inside, there were two sheriff deputies sitting on our couch. They had glasses of iced tea sitting in front of them on the coffee table.

Adam and Brian sat across from them, on the other couch, and Evan sat on the arm of the recliner.

I felt for a moment, relieved. With Evan sitting there like that, and not in handcuffs being taken away, well, surely that was

good, right?

But the look on all three of their faces was dark and brooding. I couldn't remember when I'd seen Adam last look like he did at

that moment.

Both of the officers looked up at Daniel and I as we came in, and then went on talking. One of them was saying something about a neighboring

rancher also losing two head of cattle. Also? I looked at Daniel, puzzled.

Daniel sat down on the arm of the couch, next to where Brian was sitting. Brian was leaning forward, his hands clasped together, and his face

like a thundercloud.

"This is bullshit," he said, and his voice was low, but so angry I could hear the tenseness in his voice.

For a moment, I was shocked that Brian was talking that way, I mean, swearing in front of the officers that way?

I knew he had to be very, very angry and upset to do something like that.

The one officer, the one who seemed to be in charge, looked at Brian. He didn't seem surprised, or even offended by Brian's

comment.

"I understand how you feel," he said.

"Are you a rancher?" Brian asked him, in a calmer tone.

"No, sir, I'm not," the deputy said.

"Well, then you can't understand," Brian said flatly.

"Brian," Adam said, but he sounded as though his heart wasn't in the protest.

"What are you gonna do about this?" Evan spoke up. "Are things going to be stepped up, on the investigation?"

"We're hoping to put some more men on it," the deputy answered.

"Good plan," Brian said, and I could hear the veiled sarcasm in his voice.

"What do we do with the carcasses?" Adam asked then.

"If we leave them much longer, we'll have every buzzard around these parts flying over," Brian added.

Carcasses? Now, I really was puzzled. And worried.

"Let us finish up with taking our pictures, and the rest of what we need to do," the deputy said. "In a couple of hours, you'll be

able to dispose of them."

They all stood up, and Adam said, "Evan and I'll come with you," to the officers.

So they all headed towards the front door, and as Adam and Evan headed to the truck as if to follow the sheriff car,

that left Daniel, Brian and I standing there on the front porch, watching them drive away.

"What's goin' on?" Daniel asked.

Brian kept looking after the departing car, and our old truck. "Somebody saw fit to shoot three of our cows dead."

"What the hell?" Daniel said.

Brian turned to look at Daniel then, and at me. He seemed calmer now, though his jaw was set, and there was a glint in

his eyes that looked fierce.

"Where?" Daniel was asking.

"Which cows?" I asked, right after Daniel spoke.

"Up by the line cabin," Brian answered, and then, to me, he said, "Younger ones. One of them was the one with the

spotted face."

I felt my stomach knot. "Beatrice?" I asked, so low it was nearly a whisper.

Neither Brian or Daniel responded to my comment of identifying my favorite cows with fancy names.

"When?" Daniel asked then. "I mean, do we know when?"

"Evan says he was up there a couple days ago, and didn't see anything wrong," Brian said. "So between then and this afternoon sometime."

The thought of the cows, especially Beatrice, just lying there, as fodder for anything that wanted to feed off of them, was

almost nauseating to me.

Brian turned to go back inside, and Daniel followed, which left me to bring up the rear.

"What's the thought?" Daniel was asking then. "Not rustling, obviously. But, just shooting them down? Where's

the sense in that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Brian said, picking up the two glasses that the deputies had been drinking out of, and heading

towards the kitchen. "But if I was to place a bet on it, I'd say straight up damn meanness. Pure and simple."

"Why?" I asked, still trailing along after.

"I don't know, peach," Brian said, and now he just sounded tired. He set the glasses in the kitchen sink, and then leaned

against the counter, facing us.

"You wanna help me?" he said to Daniel. "We'll get some stuff done, so we can bury the cows later."

"Yeah. Alright," Daniel said.

As they started to walk towards the back screen door, I said, "Why would somebody do that, though?"

Brian paused, his hand holding the door open, to look at me. "How about you throwing some supper together?" he

asked, not answering my question. "I don't know when Clare and Hannah are gonna get home. They went with Marie

shopping somewhere."

"What do you want me to make?" I asked, still feeling shell-shocked by what had happened to the cows.

"Whatever's easy and quick," Brian said.

I just stood there, silent for a long moment, not answering, and Brian prompted me, "Harlie?"

"Yes. Okay," I managed. Then I said, "Where's Crane?" I had the sudden wish to have Crane's calmness near.

"He and Ford are checking things out. Makin' sure there's no more dead cattle," Brian told me.

Brian went on out then, and Daniel gave me an understanding half-smile. "See you in a bit," he said, and I knew he was

trying to reassure me.

"Okay," I said.

When they'd gone, I washed my hands, and then set about trying to think of something for supper. I opened some crescent rolls,

and cut up some cheese, and began to assemble 'pigs in a blanket'. I put some onion rings on a cookie sheet, and then

made a fruit salad. It was while I was chopping up the fruit that Guthrie came in, thru the back door. He

looked hot and went to the sink, getting a glass down, and then getting a drink.

I watched him, not saying anything, until he turned around to face me.

"Hey," he said, speaking first.

"Hey."

"It's hot," he said.

"Yeah."

"Did you hear?" he asked. "About the cows?"

"Yeah. The deputies were here."

He nodded, and drank the entire glass of water down, and then set the glass down.

He came closer to the table, and reached down to take a grape from my fruit supply, popping it into his mouth.

"What's happening, Guth?" I asked. I knew it was a dumb question, because Guthrie didn't have any more idea than

I did what was going on. But I still asked. It's always been Guthrie and I's way, to bounce ideas off of each other.

"I don't know," he said. "I wish I did know."

"Brian's getting aggravated at the sheriff and his deputies," I said. "He was even swearing while they were here."

"Three cattle's a big loss."

"Who's the neighbor? They said there was another rancher around here that lost a couple of cows," I asked.

"Not sure. I just got to talk to Evan for a few minutes."

"I wonder if it was Steven's dad," I mused.

Guthrie shrugged. "Maybe."

As Guthrie reached for another grape, I said, "How's Kenny?"

Guthrie chewed the grape, and gave me a leveling glare. "Really, Har?" he asked, sounding disbelieving.

"What?" I asked, honestly perplexed.

"You just can't leave it alone, can you?" he said, and gave the chair nearest to him a shove to the table. That startled me enough

that I didn't answer right away, and by that time, Guthrie was already at the door, going back out.

"Guthrie-" I said, but I was saying it to his retreating back.

That got me so worked up that I got up, from my seat at the table, and went to the door, pushing open the screen.

Guthrie was crossing the yard by now, and I yelled after him, "I was just asking! You don't have to be such a jerk!"

I couldn't be sure, since he didn't turn around to answer, but it sounded as though he said, "Takes one to know one."

I was so upset after that, that I went to sit at the piano, pounding hard on the keys, playing a jazzy tune that I only remembered

bits and pieces of.

I was so intent on it that I didn't hear anybody come in, until a voice to my side said, "What did that piano ever do to you?"

I turned to look up at Ford, who looked amused.

"Just trying to pound Guthrie out of my head," I said, and closed the lid over the piano keys.

"What's Guthrie done now?" Ford asked, and sat down beside me, opening the lid right back up again.

"He just gets so mad-every time Kenny's name is even mentioned. He thinks I'm trying to fight with him about it, and

I'm really not!" I said.

Ford was sifting thru the sheet music in front of us. He set one paper down, and opened it. "Try this," he said, pointing

to the song.

I peered at the sheet music, and wrinkled my forehead. "I can't read all the notes, Ford. You know that."

"Well, try," he insisted. He began playing, a slow sad-sounding ballad. "Join in."

"I'll just listen to you," I said, and moved as if to stand up.

"Okay," Ford said, over the sound of the music he was playing. "Chicken-" he taunted.

I sat back down beside him on the piano bench. "You and Crane and Daniel are the musical ones around here," I told him.

Ford kept on playing, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "Uh huh," he said, in challenge.

"Oh, good grief," I huffed, but I leaned in to study the notes in front of me.

"Right here," Ford said, stopping to point quickly at a spot on the paper, before he started playing again.

Finally, I gave up on reading the notes, and just listened for a few minutes, as he played, and then on the opposite end of the

piano keyboard, I began to try to play along.

"There you go," Ford said, in encouragement, and we played on. We were still at it, when we heard noise in the kitchen, as

the others were coming in.

Evan appeared at the door leading from the kitchen to the living room. "Hey, how about supper?" he demanded.

"Rude," I accused him, still playing.

"Is it that fruit thing on the table?" Evan persisted. "We're starving."

"Good grief, Ev," I said, and got up, going to walk past him into the kitchen, which was now filled with brothers. Ford

followed along behind, taking a piece of banana from the fruit salad off the table.

I went to turn on the oven, where the 'pigs in a blanket' and the onion rings were already on cookie sheets.

"They'll be ready in a few minutes," I said.

The guys all started washing up at the kitchen sink, and I went to get plates down from the kitchen cabinets.

"Here," Ford said, taking the stack of plates from me, and going to start setting them around the table.

"Thanks, Ford," I said, pointedly, giving Evan a jab, and a raised eyebrow look, to signify his lack of help.

It went right over Evan's head, though. Either that, or he didn't care. They all began to take their

places at the table, except for Ford, who kept helping to set the table, and Adam, who began to make a pot of

coffee. Well, and Crane, who gathered up silverware from the drawer, and began to follow Ford around the table,

laying down forks and spoons. I set a pile of napkins in the center of the table, and then, when Crane was done with the

silverware, I caught at his sleeve. The talk at the table had immediately gone to the cows, and the deputies, and all of that.

It was an obviously subdued group.

Crane looked down at me, when I touched his arm, and paused. "What, peanut?" he asked me.

Since I'd just been reacting to all the stress, and wishing for a little Crane-calmness, I said off-handedly, "Are you going

out tonight?"

Crane put a hand on my shoulder. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"I just wondered," I said vaguely.

"Hmm," he said, looking down at me, his expression kind. "You want to read awhile later?" he asked.

"Together?" I asked.

"Yes. Together."

I nodded, and he patted me on the back.

When the food was done, and taken out of the oven, and had been eaten, it was being discussed about the burying of the

cattle. The tractor would be driven up, so that the front end loader could be used to dig a hole, followed by others in the truck or Jeep.

"We'd best go, before we lose our daylight," Adam said. And so, with a few heavy sighs, they all got up, pushing their chairs

up to the table.

Evan was pitching in, helping to clear the table and stack the dishes beside the sink. He gave me a half-smile.

"Can I go?" I asked, to the group at large really, not to any one certain brother.

"You shouldn't," Evan said. "It'll just upset you."

Adam paused beside me, laying a hand at the back of my neck. "That's right, sugar. It's not a pleasant sight."

I could tell he would say the actual word of 'No', if I persisted, so I just said, "Okay," and went to start

running hot water in the sink for the dishes.

Adam, Brian, Daniel and Evan were the ones that went, while Crane, Ford and Guthrie stayed back at the house.

I'd started washing the dishes, when Ford told me to go on, that he and Guthrie would do the dishes.

"It's not your turn," I felt bound to point out.

"Yeah. But you cooked," Ford said. "Go on."

I thought Guthrie would put up a protest at having to help do the dishes, when he wasn't on the dishwashing roster, but

he was silent, only going to get a dishtowel from the drawer.

So, I went to the living room, where Crane had gone to sit at his desk, figuring things on a piece of paper, his

glasses on. I paused behind him, and then wrapped my arms around his neck from behind.

I was silent, and he took his glasses off, laying them down, and then turned around in his chair, capturing my

hands in his.

"What is it?" he asked me quietly.

"Everything feels all off-balance," I said, trying to explain.

"I know," he said, his expression kind.

I sighed a little, and he said, "I'll tell you what. Go on up and get into your pajamas. I'll make us some popcorn, and hot

chocolate, and then we'll read awhile, or look at the photo albums. Alright?"

Instantly, I felt better.

7


	38. The Calm of Crane

By the time I came back downstairs, in fuzzy yellow pajamas, Crane was coming from the kitchen, carrying a

large bowl of popcorn. Two cups of steaming hot chocolate were already sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Ready?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I nodded.

"So, want to read?" he asked then.

"Sure. What book?" I asked.

"I've been thinking about rereading 'To Kill A Mockingbird'."

"I like that one," I agreed. "Let's do that."

I curled up beside him on the couch after he'd sat down, opening the worn copy of the book.

"Who reads?" he asked me.

"You," I said, without hesitation. "I love to hear you read."

"Alright," Crane said, and began to read. The words of the familiar story flowed as Crane read aloud. It was almost

like poetry, the way that he reads, which is one reason why I love to listen to him.

I saw Ford come into the room after a bit, but he didn't interrupt the reading. He just came in quietly, and sat down

opposite us, in one of the chairs, one leg flopped over the arm of the chair.

He just leaned back, and crossed his arms behind his head, listening to Crane read, too.

I began to relax, just a little, and I leaned against Crane's arm.

The only pause in the reading for a few minutes, was when Hannah and Clare got home, and came in the front door. Hannah was carrying

a bag in each arm, and Clare carried Isaac, sleeping against her shoulder, and the diaper bag.

"Anything else to carry in?" Ford asked them.

"No. Thank you, sweetie," Hannah said. She passed by, rubbing a hand over Ford's hair.

"We had some trouble," Crane said, and both Hannah and Clare looked at him, alarmed.

"What?" Hannah asked.

Crane told her briefly about the three cows, and about the sheriff's visit.

"That's where the others are now?" she asked. "With the sheriff?"

"They went to bury the cattle," Crane said.

"This just keeps getting worse," Clare said.

Hannah, meanwhile, said no more. Her face took on a pinched look, and she only shook her head, and then went off toward the

kitchen, carrying the bags.

Clare stood there a moment longer, and looked at the three of us. "Popcorn and cocoa, huh?" she asked.

"You can sit with us," I offered.

"That's alright. I think I'll take Isaac up and put him to bed for Hannah," Clare said. She gave me a sad smile and went on up

the stairs.

When it was just Ford, Crane and I again, Crane sat there for a moment in silence, and then opened the book again.

"Where's Guthrie?" I asked, before Crane started to resume his reading.

"I dunno," Ford said. "Think he might have gone outside."

Crane read a little more then, until he cleared his throat, and said he said he thought he was done reading for the night.

Ford stood up and stretched, and looked at Crane. "Think I should wait up for everybody to get back?"

"If you're tired, go on to bed," Crane said.

"I feel like I ought to wait. I mean, you know-" Ford said.

"We aren't going to be able to solve anything tonight," Crane told him. "And all they're going to do when they get back

is drink a few beers, and try to sleep themselves. Go on."

"Alright, then," Ford said. "Goodnight." He headed toward the stairs.

"Night, Ford," I said.

Left alone with Crane, I tucked my legs to one side, and leaned onto his arm again.

We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Guthrie ambled into the living room, his hands full of cookies.

"They're not back yet, huh?" he asked.

"Not yet," Crane said.

Guthrie went to the telephone, and after a few moments, I heard him talking, in a low tone. I tried to listen, but could only

catch certain words. He was either talking to Kristin, or one of his friends.

"It's not your business, you know," Crane pointed out, his tone light.

"What's not?" I asked, looking at him, wide-eyed.

"Whoever Guthrie's talking to. It's not your business."

"I know," I protested.

Crane raised an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. When Guthrie came back from talking on the telephone, he sank down

opposite us on the other couch, still munching on his cookies.

I watched Guthrie covertly, wondering when he was going to quit being such a sorehead.

"Think I could go to town awhile?" he asked, seemingly casual, and looking at Crane. "Play some pool?"

Crane regarded Guthrie with an almost-frown. "You're grounded, right?"

"I was. Over the weekend. Not now," Guthrie said.

"It's getting pretty late now," Crane pointed out. "Why don't you stay home tonight?"

I could tell the way that Crane said the last part, that he wasn't really suggesting, but meant it as more of an order.

Guthrie knew it, too. He looked decidedly unhappy, but said nothing in argument.

"You didn't eat all the cookies, did you?" I asked Guthrie.

"Maybe. Why?" he replied.

"Because. I made those for Adam. And for Crane."

"Harlie," Crane chided me. "It's fine."

"I'm just asking," I said, feeling all prickly. Something about Guthrie's attitude was royally irritating me.

Guthrie gave me a look, and stuck an entire cookie in his mouth, all in one bite.

"Mature," I taunted.

"Shut up," Guthrie said, in return.

"At least I know better than to trust somebody who's a criminal," I said, in veiled reference to Kenny.

Guthrie glared at me. "You know what, Har? You can be a real ass sometimes." He got up, and began to stomp towards the

stairs.

Crane gave me a look of displeasure. "Harlie," he said, in a scolding way. Then, to Guthrie, he said, "Guth. Come on back."

Guthrie didn't stop, and he didn't answer.

"Guthrie," Crane said, harsher. Guthrie stopped at the foot of the stairs, his hand on the newel of the bannister.

"What?' he demanded.

"You're both being sort of ridiculous right now," Crane said.

"I was just sittin' there," Guthrie protested. "She decided to bring up the same old tired conversation again."

Crane gave me a look, plainly expecting to apologize. I sat up straighter, off of his arm, and crossed my arms, feeling

stubborn.

"Harlie," he prompted.

"What?" I said, crossly.

Guthrie waved a dismissive hand at me. "Forget it. I'm goin' to bed." And he went, up the stairs.

Left there, in silence, with just Crane, I looked at him.

"Harlie Marie," he said, in a disappointed sort of way.

"Why am I the one in trouble?" I demanded, my feelings hurt. "He told me to shut up. And he called me an ass!"

Another disappointed look, and then Crane leaned forward, picking up some popcorn that had fallen onto the coffee table,

and dropping it into the nearly-empty bowl.

"Why do you always take his side?" I asked, and I was sorry as soon as I said it. Crane stopped with his popcorn picking-up, and gave

me an astounded look. And then he looked mad.

"You know better than that," he said, and the look he gave me made my face feel all warm in embarrassment.

Crane stood up, then, picking up the bowl and his own cup, and starting towards the kitchen.

"Crane-" I said, twisting around to lean over the back of the couch. When he kept walking, I said again, pleadingly, "Crane."

He stopped and turned to look back at me, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Don't be mad at me," I said.

"Then stop behaving like a ten year old," he said, without gentleness.

"Is that what I'm doing?" I asked, feeling hurt again.

"Seems so. And a ten year old that needs a spanking," he added, and then went on towards the kitchen.

I watched him go, and my stomach did a couple of loop-de-loops. I sighed, and flung myself down on the couch, staring up

at the ceiling.

I laid like that until I heard him coming back thru from the kitchen, and then I watched, as he picked up a couple of newspapers

that had gotten tossed onto the floor, and went to sit down at the desk. He put on his glasses and started looking thru the

black notebook that all the bills and ranch income are written in.

I sat up, scooting to the end of the couch nearest to the desk. And I sat, quietly, just watching him as he scribbled

away in the notebook, and opened several envelopes. More than likely bills.

It came to me in a rush then, how the loss of three head of cows would hurt. Beatrice had been bred, I knew, so that was really

a loss of four head. I couldn't remember if either of the others had been pregnant or not. If so, that would be six head that we'd lost.

Crane had been so good to me that night, too. Spending time with me, and doing his best to be a calming influence, I knew.

I got up, and went to stand just to the side of him. He kept on writing.

"I'm sorry for what I said to you," I told him. "I know it's not true."

He paused in his writing to look up at me, still quiet.

"You're one of the fairest people that I know," I went on. "You always have been."

Crane took off his glasses, laying them aside. The look he gave me was serious, and sad-seeming.

"Okay," he said, in acceptance of my apology.

"I'll apologize to Guthrie, too," I said. "For talking about Kenny again."

"I think that would be good," Crane said.

I felt suddenly like crying. Or nearly. "It was nice," I said. "Tonight, I mean. Spending time with you. Until I ruined it."

Crane gave me a tug, until I was sitting on his knee.

"Nothing was ruined," he said.

I pressed my face into his shoulder. "I don't deserve you," I said, my voice muffled.

"Why not?" he asked.

"I just don't."

Crane leaned back a little, so that I had to raise my face. "Everybody has their days," he said.

"You don't. You're always so good, to all of us. Especially me."

"Well, that's my job," he said, and gave me a half-smile.

7

Shortly after that, Crane told me to go on up to bed. I looked down the long hallway. The door to Hannah and Adam's bedroom was

closed, as was Ford and Guthrie's door. I hesitated, and went to the attic ladder, still down, and climbed up four or five of the

steps.

"Clare?" I said, trying to be quiet, in case she was sleeping already.

"I'm awake, Harlie," she said. "Come on up."

7

I stayed up with Clare, until Brian had climbed up, looking weary.

He sat down on the edge of their bed, and began pulling off his boots. He looked discouraged.

"Do you want a sandwich or something?" Clare asked him.

"No. Thank you. I just want to climb into bed," he said.

I went towards the ladder to go down. "See you in the morning," I told them.

"Don't forget your shot," Clare reminded me, and I thought how much like a sister she'd become.

"I'll go do it now," I said.

I paused on the first step, looking back up at Brian.

"Bri?"

"What?" he asked, letting his second boot drop to the floor.

"Did you get there before-" I hesitated. "Before anything started eating on them?"

Brian met my gaze. "We got there in time, peach," he said.

I smiled at him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I was down the ladder when I realized that Brian, in a case such as this, would have told me what he had, even

if it weren't the truth.

7


	39. The Fourth

I fell asleep quickly, and I slept hard. The sort of sleep where you don't wake at all in the night, and when you do wake up in the

morning, it takes you a few minutes to become fully awake.

I laid there for a bit, stretching. When I remembered, suddenly, the events of the evening before, and the tragedy of the

cows, I felt a heaviness come over me. I wondered what was going to happen from here on out. If the sheriff's department would

find anything soon.

There were the usual morning noises in the hallway outside of my bedroom. Footsteps. Some light. Some heavier. The sound of the shower

water turning on.

The sounds, though, that were absent this morning were, playful scuffling between brothers, and laughter ringing down the hallway.

I got up to get dressed, thinking that it was likely to be somber around our house for some time.

As I went downstairs, I carried my boots in one hand. A sudden burst of thunder startled me. I hadn't heard it from

upstairs.

I went to the window near the front door, lifting the curtain to look out. Rain was coming down, in a steady amount, but it

was still clear enough to see the barnyard, where a couple of the horses were galloping across the pasture.

From behind me came the sound of others coming downstairs. Daniel, looking as though he was still half-asleep, and

Guthrie, tucking in his shirt as he walked.

Another burst of thunder rang out.

"Good grief," Daniel said, coming over to look out the window, as well. "It's gonna be fun out there today."

"The roof's leaking again," Guthrie said. "In the corner. Right above my bed."

"Oh, boy," Daniel said, with a sigh.

"It's not much yet," Guthrie said. "A drop here and there. I put down some towels."

I spoke up quickly, before I lost my nerve. It made me feel more capable, with Daniel still standing there.

"I'm sorry I needled you again about Kenny last night," I said, looking at Guthrie.

Guthrie returned my look, and said, "Okay."

I couldn't tell just what he meant by that 'okay'. Did he mean 'okay, it's alright', or did he mean 'okay, I still think you're

an ass'?

"I shouldn't have called you an ass," Guthrie said then. We exchanged a long look, until Daniel said lightly, "Sounds like

it was an eventful evening around here last night."

Guthrie didn't say anymore right then, and neither did I. We followed along behind Daniel to the kitchen, where

nearly half of the family was already congregated, sitting down at the table, and reaching for the platters of

eggs and biscuits and gravy.

The mood around the table seemed subdued, for sure. Guthrie was at the refrigerator, getting out

some pear jelly. He must have told Brian about the roof, because there was a low oath, and Brian turned from the coffee

pot, going to sit down in his chair.

"Guthrie says the roof's leakin' in his room," Brian said.

"Oh, no," Hannah said, her forehead getting all wrinkled in worry.

"That's great," Adam said, with a sigh, from his end of the table.

"We can get up there and put some plastic over it," Daniel said.

"Plastic over what?" Crane asked, coming down the back stairs, and into the kitchen.

"Over the leak in the roof," Daniel supplied.

"You're kidding," Crane said, looking, for lack of a better word, shell-shocked.

"Not kidding," Guthrie said, sliding into his chair beside me.

"Where's Ford?" Daniel asked, spearing a biscuit with his fork.

"He left early," Adam said, sitting back a little in his chair. He'd finished eating, and rested his arm on the back of his chair. "They were

finishing up the posters for the Fourth of July events at the print shop."

"Should we go?" Clare asked Brian. "There'll be a dance, won't there?"

"There's always a street dance," Brian said.

"So?" Clare prompted, giving Brian a nudge in the side. "Are we going to go?"

"I don't feel much like goin' dancing," Brian said.

"Come on. It will do you good." Clare looked around the table. "It will do everybody some good to go. Have a little fun

for a change."

"Clare's right," Hannah said.

I felt suddenly hopeful. Excited. The events on the Fourth usually brought out most of the town. Eddie was likely to

be there. Of course there was always the chance that he would have some other girl with him.

"I guess so," Brian was saying to Clare. "If you want to."

"How about you, cowboy?" Hannah asked, looking down the table at Adam.

"Oh, I don't know," Adam said. "Maybe."

After that, the talk returned to work of the day. It seemed to be the agreement of the majority of my brothers that

the cattle up in our higher pastures should be brought down, where they'd be more protected. And as soon as possible.

"So all hands on deck," Evan said. "Right?"

"Right," Adam said. "Except for who stays here, to do chores, and keep an eye on things."

"How many nights will you be out?" Hannah asked.

They all exchanged some looks amongst each other, deciding.

"Maybe two?" Brian said tentatively.

"That's if we move and move quick," Adam said.

"So," Crane said, "Do we draw straws?"

"What's the straw drawing for?" Clare asked, curiously.

Since she and Brian only got married last summer, she hasn't been around during the time when the cattle are moved.

"To see who stays behind," Brian told her.

"Oh. So is it good to draw the short straw, or not?" she asked.

"I guess that depends on how you look at it," Adam told her, with a half-smile.

It was decided then, that if enough preparation work was done, those going up to fetch the cattle would leave in two days time.

Everybody had finished, and I was helping to clear the table, when Brian paused on his way outside, to tug on

one of my braids.

"Some of your special-made cookies would go real good on the ride up there," he told me.

I felt a prickle of guilt for a moment. It had been a long time since I'd made Brian's favorite, which happened to be peanut butter cookies. If

you add walnuts to them, he's really happy.

"Sure, Bri," I said.

Hannah and Clare began to wash up the dishes, and I put on an old rain slicker, and went outside to feed the goats. They didn't

seem to mind the rain that was still falling, though lightly.

I found Clarence pressed against the back door of the house. The other three dogs were out, following everybody around, but not

Fat Clarence. He's old and he doesn't like to be cold, or wet.

I opened the back door, peeking into the kitchen to see if Hannah was there. She doesn't usually like the dogs in the house,

though she doesn't say too much, as long as it's not often. And I knew that she had a soft spot for Clarence.

Hannah wasn't in sight, at that particular moment, so I went to get a dirty towel from the basement, and then back out, to

dry Clarence off a bit. I rubbed each paw free of mud, or nearly free, anyway.

After that I opened the door, and told him to come inside. He looked at me as he passed, as if understanding me exactly, and

came into the kitchen, his toenails clicking on the floor.

I took off my rain slicker, and hung it up on the hooks by the back door, and tossed the dirty towel onto the first steps going into

the basement.

I went upstairs to change out of my jeans, which were wet and soggy on the legs, even after just the short time outside. I pulled on

a pair of cut-off jeans, and went back down to find Clarence, still resting in the kitchen. He'd taken the braided rag rug that lays

in front of the sink, and had worked it with his paws until he made his own little scrunched-up bed out of it.

I washed my hands at the sink, and then went to work, baking. I got down all the ingredients that I needed for the peanut butter

cookies, except for the walnuts, because I didn't think we had any. I had the dough all ready from those, and I left them in the bowl,

and started mixing up a batch of pumpkin cookies next. I put the pumpkin ones on a cookie sheet and put them in the oven, and then

I went to the downstairs freezer to look for any walnuts that we might have. I propped up the freezer lid with the piece of wood that we

keep there for that purpose. I rooted around as far as I could reach, and then went to get a crate to stand on.

After I'd moved it over and climbed on it, I could reach further down, and sift thru more of the stuff in there.

Packages of meat were abundant, a few packages of fish, homemade breads, and all of that. I kept sifting, and moving stuff around,

and then I saw a couple of packages of chopped nuts, to the side.

I leaned over so far that I nearly fell in, bracing myself. The edge of the freezer was pressing into my stomach.

"Bat shit!" I swore.

A voice at the top of the stairs called down, "Hey, what's goin' on?"

"Evan!" I hollered. "Comere!"

There were boot steps on the stairs, and then they stopped suddenly.

"What the heck are you doin'?" I heard him say.

"Help me!" I said.

I heard him laugh a little, and come on down the stairs. He put a hand on my back, and then gave me a pull with his other hand.

"Tryin' to cool off a little, huh?" he asked.

"I couldn't reach," I said, rubbing at my stomach where the freezer had pushed in.

"What were you after?" he asked.

"Looking for nuts," I told him, holding up the bag of chopped walnuts.

Evan was moving the piece of wood, and closing the freezer lid.

I followed him back up the stairs, where I laid the bag of nuts on the counter, and went to run hot water over

my hands.

"My fingers are frozen," I complained.

Evan shook his head at me, as if he thought I was being goofy.

He went to the cabinet to get a glass, and then the refrigerator, pouring a glass of sweet tea, and drinking it down.

"Who's going to stay home, when everybody goes to get the cattle?" I asked.

"Haven't decided yet," he said. He paused long enough to crouch down and rub Clarence behind his ears.

I mixed the walnuts into the peanut butter cookie dough, and got some of them going in the oven. While they were baking,

I hoisted Clarence up into the sink, and preceded to give him a much-needed bath.

He mostly just sat there, in the warm water, looking at me reproachfully, but I was out of breath from

lifting him. I soaped him up with what was left of the dog shampoo, and was giving him a good scrubbing.

Brian and Crane came in then, and Brian said, looking less than approvingly at Clarence, "What goes on here?"

"He needs a bath," I said.

"Well, why aren't you doing it outside?" he demanded, going to the cabinet to pull down a glass.

"It's raining outside," I pointed out.

"Well, do it later outside then," he insisted.

"I'll be done in a minute," I said, trying to mollify him.

I smelled the cookies, done and smelling as though they were starting to burn.

"Grab the cookies for me," I said. "Please."

"Good grief, peach," Brian said, pulling a oven mitt from the drawer, and opening the oven door.

He set one on top of the stove, and then reached in for the other cookie sheet.

"Look as though they're burnt," he said.

"I have plenty of cookie dough. I'll put some more in," I said.

I let the water in the sink out, and began rubbing Clarence dry with the towel I'd grabbed. Brian, and Crane, too, were both

watching me as I finished up with Clarence.

"I'm making your favorite cookies," I told Brian.

"The burnt ones are mine, huh?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll make more," I said again.

7

The next day was the Fourth of July, and even though Brian or Adam were neither one very eager to go to the events in town, we all did go,

the whole family. Guthrie went to pick Kristin up, and Steven drove to our house, and I rode in with him.

Lori was there with Trent, and so the six of us hung out together.

Guthrie and I hadn't talked any more about our argument from a couple of days before. Our tenuous apology seemed

to have taken root, at least somewhat.

I saw the rest of the family, off and on throughout the afternoon, and I was glad to see that Brian looked as though he

was having a good time after all.

Marie had offered to babysit with Isaac, and Adam and Hannah had dropped him off at her house earlier in the day.

Adam, to me, also looked a bit more relaxed.

When it was time for the dance to begin, it was sort of a casual thing. Music was being played by a few local people, up on

the makeshift stage, and couples began dancing, first to a few fast numbers, and then a slow one.

I danced with Steven a couple of times, and then, out of breath, we stopped to take a break. Since sitting spots were limited,

with practically the whole town gathered, I stayed where I was, on the back of a hay wagon somebody had brought for seating,

while Steven went to get us both a bottle of cold pop.

I was swinging my legs back and forth, and watching everybody mingle and dance. I'd seen Eddie a couple of times, at

a distance. He was always talking to someone, and, though he seemed to not be with any one particular girl, he didn't

lack for dancing partners, either.

Of course he wouldn't, I thought, with a sigh.

And then I saw him again, closer this time. Just a skip away, really.

I'd assumed that he'd also seen me thru out the afternoon, but as he took a long drink from his bottle of Coke, and let his

gaze drift over the crowd of townspeople, he looked at me.

I saw his eyes linger, and then he lifted a hand in greeting.

I waved back, and then I watched him walk my direction.

7

"Hey there, Harlie," he said easily.

"Hey," I returned.

"I didn't see you before. Have you been here all afternoon?" he asked.

"Yeah. We all came in together."

"I saw Ford, and Evan and his girl. I just hadn't seen you." He smiled at me.

"There's a pretty big crowd," I said.

"Yeah. It's good for the stores. Bucks up the sales a little."

"Yeah," I echoed, in agreement.

"I heard about what happened at your place, with the cows," he said then.

"It's rough," I said.

He nodded. "It is."

He hopped up onto the hay wagon with ease, sitting next to me. I could feel my heart leaping as he did so.

"The Peterson's had a cow shot, too," he said.

"I heard. I wish they could figure out what's going on."

"Hopefully soon," Eddie said.

I nodded again, feeling my face get all warm as he looked at me. He lifted my hand, just for a moment.

"Still have that thing, huh?" he asked, nodding at the bear ring that he'd given me at the Pizza place.

"Yeah," I said, not knowing whether I should feel embarrassed or not. Would he think it was silly of me to still be

wearing what had come out of a gum machine?

He let go of my hand, and smiled at me again.

"You out with the same guy again?" he asked then. "Steve, right?"

"Steven. Yes."

Eddie nodded, and there was a few moments of silence. I gathered my nerve and said, "We're just friends."

He gave me an intent look. "Yeah?" he asked, in question.

"Yeah."

"I thought he was probably your boyfriend," he said.

"No. Just a friend."

And then it seemed as though we looked at each other in silence for a long time, though I know it couldn't really have

been long.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked me then.

It was all I could do to nod.

He hopped down from the wagon, and held out a hand to me. I took it and hopped down, too.

7


	40. Patsy Cline in the background

Patsy Cline. 'I Fall to Pieces'.

That's the song that was being played as Eddie and I began to dance. Once we began, I realized that I had never danced like this,

in a slow dance, with somebody that I really liked a lot.

Dancing with Steven, or Kenny, or Tony, none of them had prepared me for what I felt right now.

He put one hand on my waist, and with his other hand, he captured one of mine, and held it, close to his chest. I put my loose hand

on his shoulder, and he pulled me tighter. Closer.

We didn't talk. Not at all. I just gave myself up to the enjoyment of it all. I would, I thought, store the memory up and

pull it out whenever I could.

The song ended much too soon to suit me. Eddie kept hold of my hand even when the band announced that they were taking a

break. I saw Clare, sitting with Brian, at a table with some other couples, and she gave me a wide smile. Like a true big sister, I

knew she was happy for me.

"I need to be getting to work," he said. "I started my new job a couple weeks ago."

"You finished your welding classes?" I asked.

"Yep. I'm working at the plant in Modesto. It's pretty good money. I'm hoping to save up some."

"That's good," I said.

Eddie looked down at me. "Thank you for the dance, Harlie."

I wondered what I should say. Should I tell he was welcome? Instead, I said, in honesty, "It was fun."

He smiled. "Yeah. It was." He squeezed my hand, and then let it go. "I'll see you."

"See you," I echoed, and then I turned to walk back over to where I'd been sitting.

7

I was still feeling as though I was floating, when Steven came, carrying two bottles of Coke.

When he held one out to me, I took it, saying, "Thanks."

He'd already taken the cap off, so I took a long drink. He sat back down beside me on the hay wagon, and we

watched all the people that were mingling around, talking and drinking, since the band was on a break.

"I think Daniel should have played the music," I said, in conversation. "I mean, I think Pete and his cousin are doing a good

job and all. It just would have been cool if Daniel had done it."

Steven didn't say anything, and I went on. "Of course, with everything that's been happening lately, and as busy as we've been,

he probably didn't think he should."

Still he was silent. I looked at him, trying to study his profile. He looked funny. Sort of tense.

"You alright?" I asked him.

"Yeah. Sure," he said.

I took another long drink, as Guthrie and Kristin made their way over to us.

They stood, talking, or at least Guthrie, Kristin and I talked. Steven was silent. Only talking when someone asked him

a direct question. Kristin gave me a puzzled look, and I shrugged. I had no idea what was wrong with him.

It wasn't long after that, that Steven sort of abruptly said he was sorry, but that he had to be getting home.

"You can get a ride, right?" he asked me.

I said, "Sure," looking at Guthrie.

"Yeah, I'll give her a ride," Guthrie confirmed.

"Alright." He hopped down from his seat on the wagon. "I'll see you," he said, without really meeting my eye.

"See you," I echoed.

The three of us watched as he walked away, disappearing into the throng of people.

"What's up with him?" Guthrie asked.

"I don't know. He was fine." I tried to think.

After that, we all went to get something to eat, which happened to be BBQ.

"Not as good as Crane's BBQ," Guthrie said, biting into the ribs.

"No," I agreed. "But still okay."

We were finishing up our chips and ribs, when Adam and Hannah came over to where we sat at.

They said hello to Trent and Lori, and to Kristin, and then said they were going on to pick Isaac up, and head home.

"I need to be going, too," Kristin said. "I need to get to work."

Adam asked her a couple of things, like how she was liking her job at the video rental store in Angels Camp, and how

her mother was doing.

"So what's the plan after you take Kristin home?" he asked Guthrie then.

"I'll go on home, I guess," Guthrie said.

"How about you?" he asked me. "Where's Steven?"

"He had to leave. Guthrie's gonna give me a ride."

Adam took a look around at the crowd, which was beginning to thin out somewhat. Most folks would be heading home to do

their chores.

"Looks as though it's winding down a bit. We'll see you at home," he said to Guthrie and I, and he and Hannah both

said goodbye to the other kids.

I finished my Coke, and we left Trent and Lori, walking back to where Guthrie had parked at. We met up with

Evan and Nancy, walking hand in hand.

After talking for a few minutes, Nancy said, "Ride with us," and so I did, telling Kristin goodbye, and going along to

Evan's truck. I was still feeling sort of floaty, after my dance with Eddie and all. So I listened to Nancy chatter on

the way to her house, with only half of my attention.

She knew it, too, because when Evan pulled up in front of her small house, and got out, she turned to me before sliding out

after him.

"You had fun, dancing, huh?" she said, really low.

I knew she meant with Eddie, and not just dancing in general.

I smiled at her a little. And I nodded.

"We'll talk sometime," she said, in a pre-sisterly promise sort of way.

I told her okay, and then I waited, while Evan walked her up to the door, and stepped inside to talk to Nancy's father for a minute.

I propped my feet up on the dashboard, and took a piece of Big Red gum from the packet that Evan had laying in the seat. Unwrapping it, I

put it in my mouth, as Evan was coming back towards the truck.

"Get your feet off my dash," he said, but not in a grouchy way.

I moved my feet, and Evan put the truck in reverse, pulling out onto the street.

We talked about regular stuff, like how well the band had played, and whether the carnival people were creepier than

the year before.

After that we were quiet for a few minutes, each thinking our own thoughts, I guess.

I decided to broach the subject of what was niggling at me.

"Steven left," I said, twisting so that I faced him a little more in the seat. "He said he had to get home."

"Yeah?" Evan said, plainly expecting more.

"It was just weird. We were having fun. And then, just like that, he got weird."

"Maybe he really did have to get home," Evan pointed out.

I shook my head. "I don't think so. He didn't mention it before. And then he went to get us a pop, and when he came

back, he acted different. For no reason."

Evan reached for the pack of gum, pulling a piece out. "Maybe it wasn't 'for no reason'," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Evan gave me a sidelong glance. "Maybe he was upset?" he suggested.

"About what?"

Evan put the piece of gum into his mouth. "I'm thinkin' that he maybe wasn't so happy about you dancing with Eddie."

I wrinkled my forehead at him. "Why would he care about that?"

Evan shook his head a little, as if I was being dense. "Come on, Harlie."

"I mean it. I'm serious," I said. And I was honestly puzzled by what Evan was saying.

"He likes you. It probably bothered him to see you dancin' with Eddie," he said.

"But we're just friends," I protested. "He even knows about Eddie-"

I realized what I'd let slip, just as Evan raised an eyebrow my way.

"Knows what about Eddie?" he asked, but he didn't look upset.

"That I like him," I said. I figured there was no sense in denying it. "We talked about it, even. We agreed. We're just

friends."

"He might have said that," Evan said.

"But what?" I prompted.

Evan gave me another long look, as if he couldn't quite take me seriously.

"He might have said he just wants to be friends with you. Probably because that's what you said. Right?"

I thought back over the conversation that Steven and I had had.

"I guess maybe I'm the one that brought up being just friends," I said slowly.

"Exactly," Evan said.

I looked at him quizzically. I guess he saw that I really was puzzled, because he sighed, and then he said,

"The thing is, Har, any guy that age, they never want to just be friends with a girl. Not a girl that they really like. He just went

along with it because that's what you wanted. And he figures, more than likely, if that's the only way he can be around you, then-that's what

he'll do."

Evan seemed so sure of what he was saying. Like as though he was stating simple facts.

And it upset me. It did. It made me feel all weird inside.

"But he seemed like he agreed. To just be friends. He didn't act mad or anything when we talked about it. He was even

smiling," I protested.

"Well, I could be wrong," Evan said.

I waited a few more minutes, thinking, and we were both quiet.

Then I said, "Does that mean that a guy and a girl can't ever be just friends? Hang out together, without there being anything

romantic between them?"

"I'm not sayin' not ever. But at the age Steve's at, well," Evan let his voice trail off.

"So he was lying to me? When he said all that?" I asked.

"I don't think I'd call it lying, exactly."

I was studying him, trying to understand. It made me feel bad, to think that I'd hurt Steven's feelings. By dancing with Eddie. And yet I knew,

I wouldn't have not had those few minutes with Eddie. Not for anything.

7

At home everybody went about their evening chores, and since we'd all eaten a lot during the day, supper was just

a 'help yourself' sort of thing. I made myself a turkey sandwich, putting on way too much Miracle Whip. All that bread, plus

the Coke I'd consumed earlier, raised it to a 'non-beneficial' day for diabetes.

I would, as I often told myself, do better the next day.

Last minute things were planned to be done in the morning, and talked about as everybody sat around the living room later

that evening, since it was time to head out to bring our cattle down.

I, of course, wasn't in on the short straw drawing, as for who would stay at the house for choring, and of course, for protection,

with all the crazy stuff going on.

Evan drew the short straw, and after some discussion it was decided that I would be able to go up on the first day, and then

somebody would bring me back the morning of the second day, and make sure that Evan was doing alright, handling everything.

If need be, whoever was nominated to bring me back down would stay also, and not go back up.

Hannah said she would like to go up on the second day, and help, and Clare said she was fine with watching Isaac. So, after that

the talk turned to packing of supplies, and Hannah asking me if I thought I could manage my blood sugar, being away from the

house like that.

I resisted the urge to answer her crossly. Sometimes she was just so-well, so 'nit-picky' about the stupid diabetes.

I reminded her that I'd gone camping with Adam earlier in the summer, and been just fine. She, in return, pointed out

that that had been for an afternoon and overnight, versus the entire day and overnight that I would be helping with the cattle.

"I'll be fine, Hannah," I said.

"I just worry," she said.

I was literally feeling my irritation rise higher and higher. I was sitting on the arm of one of the couches, and I felt a hand running

over my back, just really softly. Every couple of seconds, there was the merest amount of pressure from his fingers. I knew exactly

what it meant. Which was, 'stay cool' and 'don't say something you shouldn't'.

"I'll take snacks," I told Hannah. "I'll be really careful."

Hannah nodded, and went on talking to everybody else again. I turned to the left to look at Crane, and he gave me a slight smile

of understanding, and patted my back again. I nodded at him, glad that he understood my frustration at Hannah, and glad too, that

he'd given me that 'hand' of support, so I wouldn't shoot my mouth off.

7

Everybody headed to bed fairly early that night, and I was up early the next morning, packing a backpack with snacks to take,

and my diabetes supplies. I knew I'd have to leave the backpack at camp, while we were out working during the daytime, so I thought

I would be able to carry fruit or granola bars in my saddle bags.

It was early when we headed out, and the air was still cool. I was wearing a jacket, not only for then, but because it would get

colder at night the higher up we were. I thought about riding Petra, but Adam and Brian both thought Old Charlie would be a better

choice.

"He's steadier," Brian told me. "I don't think Petra's dependable, in something like this. Too flighty."

Since always before, I'd ridden Petra on the small amount of time I was allowed to go along on roundup, I knew that with Brian saying

what he did, that they must be planning to give me more responsibility this time. So, I didn't argue. I tucked a couple extra apples in my

backpack to give to Charlie for a treat.

The Jeep was driven to a certain point, by Crane, while Daniel led the extra horse. Parked then, and there in case of

emergency, Crane mounted his horse, and we all rode on.

It was a long ride up, and it was enjoyable really, mostly because I love being outside and on horseback, but also

because of all the scenery, the flowers and the smells in the air.

Charlie is so well trained that I could basically have my hands free at times, and I used the opportunity to

break into my backpack, taking out an apple, before I picked up the reins again.

Ford rode up alongside of me. "What else you got in your bag there?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"Lots of things," I told him.

"Somethin' I can have?" he asked.

I gave my backpack a shrug to ease it off of my shoulder, and leaned forward in my saddle a bit, so Ford could reach it

easier. He took it off of me, and began to root thru it.

He ended up taking out a banana and reached over to hook the backpack back on my back again.

"Good plan," he said. "Bringing snacks."

"I had to. Hannah was about to have a conniption fit," I said.

Ford gave me a half-disapproving look, as he peeled the banana.

"She worries," he said, tossing the peel into the grass.

"I know."

"You shouldn't be that way about it," he told me.

"Having diabetes is hard enough," I said. "Without having people nag me all the time."

"Good grief, Har," he said, and then was quiet.

After a couple of long moments, I sighed. "I guess I'm sort of touchy about it."

"Sort of?" he said, and then grinned at me.

In response I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue at him.

I would have hated to admit it, but after two full hours in the saddle, I was ready to take a break and stretch my legs.

But nobody suggested it. They were intent to press on. And I knew time was of the essence. So I kept my mouth shut,

shifting in the saddle.

I had begun to wonder where we were going to put all the cattle we were bringing down. If three of our cattle were shot

when they were near our cabin, then that meant we'd have to bring these cattle even closer to the house. There wasn't that

much pasture close to the house. Not enough to supply grass to that many cows.

Finally, we were to the point where cattle started being spotted. We made camp shortly after that. I was glad to

get off Charlie and walk around a little.

We ate a quick lunch of sandwiches that had been packed, and then it was back in the saddle again, to start rounding up the cattle,

those that were nearby, and then further on.

We rode thru the afternoon, and until nearly dusk, before we stopped for the day. There were no major mishaps, other than

some skinned knuckles, and, for myself anyway, a sore backside from being all day in the saddle. I was intent to not say a word of complaint,

though.

I was so tired that when I finally got down off of Charlie, it was actually more of a slide down, rather than a proper

dismount. I sort of stood there a couple of minutes, getting the feeling back in my legs.

"Come on," Daniel said, passing by me, with his saddle over his shoulder. "Time for chow."

"I'm coming," I told him, and began to unsaddle Charlie. I rubbed him down, and tied him to the line string with

the other horses, and fastened on his feed bag.

I went back to collect my saddle, but somebody had already picked it up for me, and taken it over to near the

campfire.

I made my way to join the group gathered around the fire, which was going steady, and where Brian was stirring something

in a skillet. Guthrie made a comment about wasting away from starvation, and asked impatiently how much longer

before the food was done.

"Stop hounding me or it'll never get done," Brian told him

I located my saddle, which had been placed between Daniel and Adam, and sat down, wincing a little as I did so.

"Alright?" Adam asked me, sounding concerned.

I told him I was fine, and just sort of sat quietly as they all talked. When Brian handed me a plate, heaped with

some sort of hamburger/vegetable mix, doctored with what looked like plenty of bbq sauce, I took it. I was so

tired that I would have been fine with eating something quick, and then going right to sleep.

"That's too much," I protested.

"Clean that plate," Brian ordered, as he continued to pass out plates of steaming hot food.

I ate my supper, and then Brian and Crane did the 'washing up', of the plates and forks,, with water

from the canteens. I moved stiffly, to get up.

"Where are you goin'?" Adam asked me.

"To check on Charlie," I said.

I did check on Charlie, and then went into the trees to go pee. I was buttoning up my jeans again when

I heard approaching footsteps, swishing thru the grass.

"Where are you, squirt?" Daniel asked.

"Coming," I said. I came out to find him standing there, waiting for me.

"Just checkin' on you," he said, in explanation.

We started walking back towards the rest of the family. "I'm ready to sleep," I mumbled.

"I'm not far from it myself."

Back in my spot again, Adam moved his feet a bit, so I could settle in. I crawled into my sleeping bag, and reached

for my backpack, and while Daniel held the flashlight, I did my shot.

Once I was finished with that, I sank back against my saddle, overturned to serve as a pillow.

After a few minutes, the talk became quieter, and less.

I felt Adam reaching around me, tucking the edges of the sleeping bag in tighter.

"Warm enough?" he asked me.

"Uh huh," I said, sleepily.

"You did a good job today," he said. That got me a bit more alert.

"You think so?" I asked.

"I do."

"Thanks," I said, hugging his praise close. Adam is not known to praise often, so when he does, it really means

something. To me, anyway.

"I could stay around tomorrow, too," I said, half-hoping he would say yes, and the other half not hating the idea of

his saying no.

"We'll stick with our plans of you goin' back in the morning," he said.

"Okay," I said, and snuggled down, listening to the fading voices of my brothers as I fell asleep.

7


	41. Surprise attack

The time to get up and get moving came early the next morning. I was prodded by Daniel, telling me to get up, and I meant to, I really did.

But I just couldn't help myself, I snuggled down in my sleeping bag, cozy, Just in the brief moments that I turned my face out, my nose

got cold. I was nearly drifting back into sleep when I had a boot-bump to my feet.

"Come on, peach, rise and shine," Brian told me.

I sighed, but I sat up, my arms out of the sleeping bag. I sat there, watching for a couple of minutes, as Brian set the coffee pot on the

fire, and he poked it, stirring up the flames, sitting on a log near to the fire.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked him.

"Bacon and biscuits," he said. "Get your tail feathers movin'."

I tugged at the zipper on the sleeping bag, and when it caught and wouldn't move, I got to my feet,

trying to unzip the sleeping bag. I was tugging at it, with no success, and I felt the sudden urge to be silly.

"Look, Bri," I told him, and when he looked my way, I hopped up and down a couple of times, holding the sleeping bag up

around my waist. "I'm gonna have to ride herd like this today. I'll have to ride side-saddle, like in the olden days."

Brian looked amused, but turned back to forking bacon strips onto the cast iron griddle. "Quit fooling around, and get out of

that thing."

"I'm stuck, I think," I said. "One of the boys left it out in the rain or something, and the zipper's all rusty." I tugged on the zipper again.

Brian put down his fork and stood up, taking the few steps over to me. He took over, pulling at the zipper.

I giggled a little at the look on his face.

"I don't have time for this nonsense," he said. "Lay down again, and wiggle out of it."

So I did, laying on the ground, and scooching my butt around, while Brian tugged from the foot end.

"There you go," he said. "Problem solved."

"Thanks," I said, grinning up at him.

"Enough fooling around," he said, and he didn't look amused any more.

"I'm going," I said, in protest, and rolled up the sleeping bag. I went to check on Charlie. He was busy eating his

breakfast from his feed bag.

There were brothers everywhere, it seemed. By the horses, saddling them, out looking over the cattle, who were herded all

together around the camp, or coming up from the creek with filled buckets to water the horses with.

I passed by Ford and Daniel, carrying a bucket each, and headed down the slope to the creek.

"Morning, Har," Ford said.

"Morning," I echoed.

"Where are you goin'?" Daniel asked, stopping in his walking to look at me.

"Down to the creek a minute."

"What for?"

"Just for a minute," I said, rolling my eyes. "For gosh sakes, Daniel."

"Oh," he said, in understanding, and grinned at me. "Okay, then."

I walked on, tossing back a comment of, "I'm so glad it meets with your approval!"

Once near the creek, I found the covering of a shrub, and went pee. I walked a little further down, for a few minutes, and

pulled my jacket tighter around my body. It was chilly in the morning air, this high up.

I heard whistling, and my name being yelled. Breakfast time.

I headed back up, glad for the slope, because it got my blood stirring, and got me warmed up a little bit.

I found out that I was still saddle sore from the day before, when I found a spot to sit down and take the plate

of food that Brian offered me.

I tried not to wince as I sat down, but I couldn't help it. And unfortunately, it didn't go unnoticed.

"Maybe you ought to eat standin' up," Guthrie said, giving me a wide grin.

I thought about rudely telling him to shut up or something, but it was as though he was the old Guthrie then, and

our separation about Kenny wasn't on the radar. So I settled for giving him a haughty look, and responding with, "You worry

about your own self."

"I'm fine," Guthrie said, and added teasingly, "I'm not a tenderfoot, like some around here."

"Harlie's no tenderfoot," Adam said, reaching out to pour more coffee into his cup. "She pulled her weight, the same as

everybody else."

Another bit of praise. It started my day off right.

I gave Adam a grateful smile. He smiled back.

7

A couple hours into the morning, the dust began flying. I stopped Charlie, in order to tie my hair up with a rubber band, into a messy

bun. I clamped my hat down tightly on my head, pulling my jacket up to try to keep some of the dust away from my eyes.

I was gathering up several calves from a thicket of bushes, when Adam rode up beside me.

"Leave those be," he told me.

I wondered if he thought I'd done something wrong. I pulled Charlie to a halt, pushing my hat back a little.

"How come?" I asked.

"I want you to gather up your bag, and head on back with Daniel. I'm wanting to make sure everything's alright at home."

"Okay," I said in agreement.

"We're gonna be another two days up here," Adam was saying. "Help out as much as you can at home, alright?"

"I will."

"I know you will," he said, and reached out to rub a gloved hand over my shoulder.

So, a short time later, I was headed down with Daniel, It didn't seem to take so long to get back home as he had getting up

to our camp site.

"Are you staying at home, or going back?" I asked Daniel.

"I'm gonna grab some more food, and if everything's okay with Evan, then I'll go back."

When we got home, I was glad to get down off of Charlie. Daniel tied his horse, going into the house, and I began to unsaddle Charlie, putting

away the tack, and rubbing him down. When Evan showed up a few minutes later, coming from the pasture behind the house, I told him

where Daniel had gone, and he went towards the house, too.

I was done with Charlie, and turned him out, going in the back door. Both Daniel and Evan were there, as was Hannah.

By the time I'd gotten there, it had already been decided that everything was manageable at home, so Daniel prepared to

gather up some food to head back.

"I'm going along," Hannah said. "I'll go get my boots on."

When she came back down, Clare was with her, while Hannah carried Isaac. He immediately began to smile at Daniel and I, and

Daniel took him to hold for a few minutes.

"It's going alright?" Clare was asking.

"No problems so far," Daniel told her. "You ready then, Hannah? We need to start up."

"I'm ready," Hannah said, picking up a canvas bag sitting on the counter. "I packed some things already."

Hannah took Isaac from Daniel, muzzling him and making him smile again.

"You don't mind watching him?" she asked Clare. "You're sure?"

"I'm positive," Clare said. "We'll have a great time."

On their way out, Hannah turned to me. "I'll bet you're ready for a bubble bath," she told me.

"Yeah. Maybe I will, tonight," I said.

When a horse had been saddled for Hannah, and she and Daniel had ridden out of sight, Clare took Isaac back into the house,

and I stood on the porch steps with Evan for a few moments.

"What is there to do?" I asked him.

"I'm working on the fence out back," he said. "With all the cattle coming down, we need more space."

"Okay. I'll get a sandwich and then come out to help you," I told him.

So, that's how I spent the next couple of hours. After that, Evan fed range cubes, and I fed the pigs and goats.

When it was past supper time, I could tell he was tired, and I was, too. I was thinking longingly of that bubble bath

upstairs.

"Let's call it good for today," Evan said, meeting me at the barn as I returned the buckets that I'd used for feeding.

"I'm not gonna argue with that," I said, tiredly, putting the buckets away.

Evan was waiting at the barn door for me, and we went into the kitchen thru the back door. Clare had baked

a cake, and it was sitting on the table, already frosted.

Evan ran a finger around the side of the cake, and then licked the frosting off.

"Are you taking a shower?" I asked him.

"I'm gonna eat first," he said. "You go on if you want. I can wait."

"Okay," I said, and went up the back stairs to Hannah and Adam's bedroom, starting hot water running in the bathtub. I added bubble bath

from Hannah's supply, and went to my bedroom, gathering up clean clothes, a pair of shorts and t shirt.

I sank into the warm bubbles, breathing in the lavender scent. I scrubbed, and then soaked for a while, until the water started

cooling off. I didn't want to run any more hot water, with Evan wanting to take a hot shower, too.

There was a light tap on the bedroom door, and then Clare stepped in. "Harlie? Are you still in the bathtub?"

"Yeah," I called back.

Clare came on in, to the bathroom door. "Steven's here to see you," she said.

I was a little surprised, but I felt glad, too. Maybe whatever had been bothering Steven was past, now. Maybe Evan had

been wrong about Steven being bothered by my dance with Eddie.

"I'll be right down," I told Clare, and she nodded and went out.

I got out and dried off, pulling on my clean clothes. I swept up my wet, shampooed hair, into a messy bun, and went out

of the bathroom. I met Evan coming up the stairs.

"There's still hot water for you," I told him.

"Thanks," he said, and added, in a low tone, "Steve's downstairs."

"I know," I said, and went on down.

Steven was standing in the living room, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey," he greeted me, with a smile.

"Hi," I answered.

We had casual conversation for about five minutes. About this and that. Nothing major.

"You can sit down," I told him, and we both sat on the couch. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thanks. I just thought we might go do something."

"Oh." I was really, really tired. Still, I thought maybe if I went out with him for awhile, he might share with me what

had been bothering him on the Fourth. I didn't want to lose Steven's friendship.

So I told him to wait a minute, and I went upstairs. Before I got to Evan's bedroom, I heard the shower running

and I tapped on the bathroom door.

"What?!" he yelled.

"Can I go out for awhile?" I called in.

There was some noises from inside the bathroom, and then Evan opened the bathroom door, still dressed in his dirty jeans and t shirt.

"Go out where?" he asked me.

"With Steven someplace," I said. "He asked me to."

Evan looked as though he was debating something in his mind.

"Why don't you just stay around home?" he suggested.

"Because he wants to go out."

"I don't think you oughta go out with him, if he's bein' a sorehead," Evan said.

"He doesn't act like he's upset anymore," I explained.

"Well," Evan hesitated. "I still think you ought to stay put. He can talk to you just as well right here."

I studied him, considering arguing. But I was tired from all the physical activity of the last two days, and so I didn't argue.

I told him okay, and went back down the stairs, as he reclosed the bathroom door.

I told Steven that I was really tired, just getting back from the roundup, and that he was welcome to stay around and watch a movie with me.

He agreed, and I went to make some popcorn, and when I came back in, we were sitting and talking. I was wondering if I should bring

up his abrupt departure on the Fourth of July, and ask him if he'd been upset about something.

While I was debating, Steven, who was already sitting close to me on the couch, scooted over a couple more inches, until his

leg was smack dab against mine. I was just looking to my left, wondering what he was doing, when he grabbed me, and

began kissing me. For a long few moments, I was so surprised that I just sat there, then I gave him a push against his chest.

"What are you doing?" I protested.

He paused, but he didn't move his arms. "The last time I checked, this was kissing," he said, and moved towards me again.

"I don't want to kiss you," I said, and pushed again.

"Why not?" he asked, his breath a little ragged.

I moved out of his reach. "We're friends, Steven," I pointed out.

"Friends can kiss," he said.

"Not us," I insisted.

With that last comment, his eyes seemed to darken. "Not us, huh?" he demanded.

"No."

"Because I'm not Eddie?" he said, his voice rough.

"Because we're just friends." I tried to make my voice hard, to show him I meant business. It was difficult, though. I felt sort of bad

for him, at the same time.

"Maybe I wanna be more than friends," he said.

I stared at him for a long moment, and then I stood up. "Evan was right," I said, low, almost to myself.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I told him. I sighed, and surveyed him. I was full of intent that this was going to be resolved, and in a good

way. I would just talk to him, and give him the respect of listening to him-

"I like hanging around with you, Steven," I began.

"I like being with you, too," he said, and stood up, coming the few steps to stand in front of me.

"We talked about this," I reminded him. "We agreed that it wasn't anything but friendship-"

"Yeah. Well, I've changed my mind," Steven said.

I was trying to think of what to say next when his voice softened. "Please, Harlie. I know I'm not that Eddie guy, but if you give

me a chance, I know you won't be sorry."

"No, Steven," I said. I said it softly, because I felt so bad for him. Maybe some of this was my fault. Maybe I'd led him to believe

that I thought of us as more than friends, too?

Later, when I was rethinking all of it, I thought that my soft tone might have encouraged him, that he could change my mind.

Because right after I said that last soft 'No', Steven put his hands on my arms, pulling me closer. He began kissing me again, until I

turned my face, pushing at him. I wasn't feeling kindly any longer. I was mad.

"Stop!" I ordered, and I raised my voice.

But he didn't stop. He squeezed me tighter, until I could hardly get my breath. If I'd had my boots on, I would have given him a

hard kick to his shins. But, barefooted, that wasn't an option.

"Steven!" I said, and in our scuffling, me to get loose, and him to hang on, we tumbled to the side, and onto the couch. I was under him,

his weight pressing on me, and that's when I began slapping him, wherever I could reach. His face, his head, wherever. And I

yelled. I hollered loud, "Get off of me!"

That might have scared some boys. A girl hollering that way. Especially when there was a brother in the house.

But Steven didn't seem to be paying attention.

I punched him, hard, right in the eye, and he raised up a bit.

And then, I could hear Clare, somewhere behind us, and she was yelling, too.

"Steven! Get off!" She was behind Steven, pulling at him.

I think Steven was on his way then, to standing up, but before he could, Evan was behind him, shoving Clare out of the way,

and grabbing Steven. Evan's shirt was flapping open, unbuttoned, and his hair was dripping.

After that, things happened even faster it seemed. I do know that Evan jerked Steven up by the collar, and over by the front door,

against the wall.

Evan kept pushing Steven harder against the wall, over and over.

"When a girl says no, it means no, you little jackass," Evan said, in a tone that though low, was deadly.

"Evan, that's enough," Clare was saying, standing aside of Evan.

I began to be afraid for Steven, not so much that I cared right then if he got shoved around, but because if Evan didn't get hold of his

temper, it might come back to haunt him.

I got up and went to tug on Evan's arm. "Ev, please!" I said.

Evan gave Steven another shake, and then loosened his grip, just a bit. He opened the front door with one hand, and

held onto Steven with the other. Once on the porch, he said, "You get out of here. And you don't come back. You

don't touch Harlie. You don't talk to her. Don't you even look at her." He shook Steven once more, hard, and then

gave him a push.

Steven cast a look my direction, from where I stood at the screen door, and then he walked really quickly to his

truck, getting in and driving down our long driveway.

After that, it was like slow motion for a few moments. Clare put her arm around my shoulders, and gave me

a reassuring squeeze. "Come on inside," she said to me.

I went, looking back as Clare said, "Come on, Evan. You, too."

"In a minute," Evan said, tersely, still standing there watching Steven's truck start down the road.

Inside, Clare ushered me over to the couch, and then sat down beside me. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"No," I said, and I knew that I wasn't hurt. I was shaky, though, and stunned. I noticed, in a vague sort of way, how

popcorn had gotten spilled during our tussle.

Evan came in, slamming the door. He looked angrier than I could remember seeing him be for a long time.

"Little prick," he said, in disgust.

His gaze fell to me. "You alright?" he asked me then.

I nodded, and he walked across the room, muttering something under his breath.

I looked at Clare. She gave me a sympathetic look. "What happened?" she asked me.

"He said he was gonna watch a movie-and then he started getting rough-" I said.

"Has he ever behaved that way with you before?" Clare asked then.

"No."

Evan was standing there, listening, looking serious.

"You were right," I said then, looking at him.

Clare, not knowing what I was speaking about, looked from Evan to me.

Evan was quiet, and somber. He began buttoning up his shirt.

"I'll make some tea," Clare said, and patted my knee, getting up. "Tea always helps."

She went off to the kitchen, and I looked at Evan again.

"I'm gonna call his parents," Evan said.

"Don't do that, Ev, please," I pleaded, folding my hands together so they wouldn't be so shaky.

"I don't know why I shouldn't," he said. "He needs to be held accountable."

"I know," I admitted. "But, do you have to? It might make things worse-"

"Worse than this?!" he said, raising his voice a little.

I subsided, looking at him. I picked up a blanket folded on the end of the

couch, and pulled it over myself.

Evan gave a sigh, and came over to sit down beside me on the couch.

"You're sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"I'm okay."

"If you find even one bruise, I want to know about it. Got it?"

I nodded at him, and then, in uncharacteristic display, he put his arm around my shoulders, and hugged me. He didn't say anything

and we sat there in the quiet, the only sound the ticking of the wall clock.

"You were right about Steven," I said again. "He said he wasn't happy just being friends with me."

Evan gave me another one-armed hug.

"This is one time that I wish I hadn't been right," he said.

7


	42. Four at home

The three of us ate our supper, sitting around in the living room, while watching an old episode of 'The Beverly Hillbillies'. I knew that

Evan called Steven's father, because I heard him talking on the telephone, even though Evan was around the corner of the stairs,

and talking in a low tone.

When I heard that, I gave Clare a look, and saw that she knew, too, who it was that he was talking to. She gave me a light shrug of

sympathy.

"It's necessary," she told me quietly.

I hadn't felt much like eating before, and after that phone call, I felt like it even less. I finished the vegetables on my plate, but

not the leftover meatloaf that Clare had reheated.

"I just can't believe he acted that way," I said, almost to myself.

"Listen-" Clare began to say something to me, but Evan was coming back, and I didn't want to hash it over any more in

front of him.

So I turned my attention back to Ellie Mae and Granny.

When that episode was over, Evan said he was tired and going to bed.

"Me, too," Clare said.

I sat there, still and quiet, curled up on the corner of the couch, covered with my favorite quilt.

Evan was going to the front door, checking to make sure it was locked. Since we very rarely lock our doors at night, this

in itself spoke volumes.

"I'm gonna check the back door," he said, and went towards the kitchen.

Clare stood up, stretching. "You want to stay up in our room tonight?" she asked me.

I was thinking about it, when she went on, "Isaac will be up there, too. We can talk, or not talk, whichever you want."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Okay. I'm going to get Isaac from his crib and take him up to the playpen to sleep. Do your shot, and then I'll meet you up there, alright?"

Her voice and her expression were so kind.

I nodded in agreement. I wrapped my quilt around my shoulders, and went to the kitchen, preparing to do my shot. Evan was standing outside of the

back door, on the little stoop there. I went on, doing my shot, and he came back inside, finishing a glass of milk. He set the glass in the sink,

and went back over to the door, twisting the lock into place.

I thought about saying something about did he really need to lock the doors against Steven? But then, I thought about how he'd been

right all along concerning Steven's motives. And the thought had occurred to me that if I had actually gone out with Steven, would I have been

able to fight him off if he'd behaved as he had in the living room?

So I didn't say a word about Evan locking the doors. Actually, at that moment, it made me feel more secure. Even though I didn't think

Steven would come back around our house at all, anytime soon, much less the same night, I didn't have much faith in my own

judgement at this particular time. What did I know? I'd thought Steven was a nice guy. A good person.

I sighed, just thinking about it. I hadn't realized just how deeply that I had sighed until Evan paused beside me, watching as

I put my diabetes supplies away.

"You goin' up to bed?" he asked me.

"Yeah. I guess I'll stay in the attic with Clare tonight."

"Okay," he said. "That'd probably be good."

"Do we have a lot of work around here tomorrow?" I asked, trying to sound upbeat.

"We won't lack for work."

"Okay," I said.

Evan reached out and caught at the quilt that I had wrapped around my shoulders. I looked at him, waiting.

"I feel like there's somethin' that I probably should say to you right now," he said.

I watched his face, and all the emotions crossing it. I wasn't sure just what he meant.

"You mean, like how dumb I am?" I asked. "To take a guy's word?"

"No, Harlie," he said, shaking his head. "I don't think you're dumb at all." He hesitated, looking as though he was thinking.

"You were up front and honest with him. It's not your fault that he didn't hold up his end of the agreement."

"But, Ev," I said, "I was sort of using him, I guess. It was so-well, handy, to have somebody fun to go places with, and not

have to worry about the whole boyfriend-angle of it."

He nodded, in understanding of what I'd said. "Yeah. But there was nothin' wrong in that, either. You weren't leadin' him on."

"I guess he thought maybe I was," I said quietly.

"Well, that's on him. Not you." Evan's tone was firm. "I don't want you feelin' any of the blame for what happened today."

I was silent, looking at him, and he gathered a handful of the quilt around me in both of his hands. He gave me a little tug.

"Are you hearin' me?" he asked,

"I hear."

"Well, I know it shook you up. I just don't want you to let it fester inside, or blame yourself," he added.

"Okay," I said, in agreement. He was being so nice. So 'adult'.

"Okay," he echoed. "Well, I just felt as though I should say somethin' to you. I know Adam would have. Or Crane."

I nodded. "I'm glad you were around," I said fervently. "And," I added, "I'm glad you told me to stay home."

"Yeah," he said. He turned loose of the quilt.

He turned off the lights in the kitchen, and we went thru the living room, as he snapped off the lamps in there, too.

Upstairs, he went on to his own room, while I climbed the attic steps. Clare had put Isaac back to bed in the playpen, and she

was wearing her robe, brushing her hair at the mirrored vanity.

It was so homey up there, that I think a lot of people would be surprised by how Clare has fixed it up.

We sat on the bed, and she brushed out my hair, which still had tangles from the morning of wind and riding.

It was clean, but tangled.

Clare, being Clare, didn't mention Steven or bring it up at all. I began to relax a little, as she worked the

hairbrush thru my curls.

"Evan talked to me," I said. I was talking in a low tone, so as not to wake Isaac up.

"He did?"

"Yeah. He said that what happened wasn't my fault. And that I shouldn't feel like it was."

"He's right," Clare said, quietly as well.

"And he said-well, he said other stuff, too. He was really nice about it."

"I'm glad he made you feel better."

"Did you know we used to not get along at all?" I asked.

"You and Evan?" she asked.

"Yeah. I was always really bratty to him, and I thought he was bossy, for no reason."

"People change," Clare said.

"He's still bossy," I said, and heard Clare laugh softly.

7

The next morning when I woke up, I was surprised to find that Clare had gone downstairs already, and taken Isaac with her.

I got out of bed, and then walked back over to make it, figuring that I should. I went down the attic stairs, and to my own room,

where I pulled on my jeans and a Travis Tritt t-shirt. Carrying my boots, I went down to the living room, and then thru to the kitchen.

Clare was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea, and reading some sort of medical magazine, all while

still entertaining Isaac, by shaking his toys and talking to him.

"Good morning," she greeted me.

"Morning."

"How did you sleep?"

"Good," I said, and I was actually surprised that I had.

"There's oatmeal, if you want some. That's what I had. Or there's some eggs left, that Evan made."

I went about getting myself a bowl of oatmeal, and sitting down at the table, dropping a kiss on the top of Isaac's downy head.

"Evan's already outside?" I asked.

"He was already out by the time I got up," Clare said.

"I better hurry," I said.

I finished my breakfast, and went to pull on my boots, and a ball cap over my ponytail. I went to feed the dogs and goats, as usual. Evan

was already out in the back pasture. I could see him at a distance. I walked to where he was at, using a post hole digger to make new

fence post holes.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Hey."

"Do you want me to help here?" I asked.

He paused, straightening up. "I think I've got it. Do you think you can feed some range cubes?"

"I can," I told him, and turned around to walk away.

"Hey," he said, and I paused, looking back.

"You alright this morning? Not sore or anything?" he asked.

I knew what he really meant was, was I sore after Steven had roughed me around?

"I'm still saddle sore," I told him, in answer, and he grinned at me, and went back to his work.

7

I fed the range cubes, driving the old ranch truck out, and then climbing up into the back to tear open the sacks of range

cubes. Too heavy for me to lift all at once, I put down the tailgate, laid the sack flat, open side down, and got back in the truck.

As I drove slowly, the range cubes spilled out, sometimes a few at a time, sometimes a bunch in a clump. The cattle immediately

came forward, finding their 'candy'.

I stopped, and parked, and got back up in the bed of the truck, having to push aside the cows to do so. Most of our cattle are so

tame that they will come right up to you, and sniff at your pockets to see what you have. I was lifting the sack, much lighter now, and sprinkled some

on one side of the truck, and then the other side. I was congratulating myself on my ingenuity of lightening the sack, when I saw

the bull that we'd borrowed from the neighbor walking towards the truck.

I eyed him from my spot in the back of the truck. He wasn't hurrying, just ambling along, but he sure was a giant.

"You girls tell your boyfriend to be nice, alright?" I said, addressing myself to the cows milling around the truck.

The bull came up, and pushed aside some of the cows to get to a few of the range cubes. I stood back a little further, against

the window of the truck, watching him.

"You go on now," I told him.

He was in no hurry to move along. He butted his head against the side of the truck a couple of times.

Warrior, who had tagged along with me, stuck his head out of the open driver's side window, barking at the bull.

Since the bull seemed to dislike that, I said, "Hush up, Warrior!"

I knew better than to jump down from the truck to the ground, with him standing there. Always, always, respect a bull. Even if they are

supposedly 'friendly', you never ever take a chance.

So, I thought I would have to stay there until he decided to go. I tried a few "Go"s and "Shoo!" but he wasn't bothered.

I was safe, I knew, as long as I stayed put.

After several minutes had gone by, I estimated about fifteen or so, and the cows, including the bull, were still milling around the

truck, waiting for more cubes. I went to the opposite side of the truck, the passenger side, and stuck one leg in the open window, then

grasped the part where the door meets the roof of the truck, getting a grip. I scooted my behind over until I could swing my other leg in, too.

I had to push Warrior out of the way, but I managed. I was behind the wheel of the truck, when I gave the bull a triumphant, "What do you

think of that, huh, Ferdinand?"

I put the truck into gear, and chugged out of the pasture in second gear, with Warrior sitting on my lap.

7

Evan came in long enough to eat a quick sandwich at lunchtime. He kept talking about how much he had to do.

"You're working yourself to death," Clare said.

"I'm alright."

"What would you two like for supper tonight?" Clare asked then. "I feel bad I can't be outside helping much. After Isaac takes a nap

this afternoon, I'm going to take him out and let him sit in his walker while I pick the garden."

"Anything is fine for supper," Evan said.

"How about you, Harlie?" she asked. "Anything special you want? Well, anything that's in my cooking ability, I mean."

"You're a good cook now," I said loyally. Everybody remembered when Clare and Brian got married, and she hadn't been very good

at cooking at all.

"Thanks."

"Maybe hamburgers?" I suggested. "And fries?"

"I think I can manage that. I'll pick some tomatoes and cucumbers, too."

As Evan finished eating, and stood up, pushing his chair up to the table, he said, "I might ask Nancy to come over to eat with us."

"That'd be great," Clare said, with enthusiasm.

I was glad about it, too, and helped Evan with the work he was doing in the back pasture the rest of the afternoon.

It was so hot that I was thinking longingly of some lemonade. A Coke would be even better, I thought. Instead, I chugged down some

water from the thermos he'd brought with him.

We took a break for a few minutes, sitting on the grass. I was curious, and not totally sure that I wanted to know the answer, but

I asked anyway. "What did Steven's father say when you called?"

"He didn't say a lot," Evan said.

"Was he mean about it? Like he thinks it wasn't true? That I provoked it somehow?" I asked.

Evan looked at me, and I could tell he'd rather just drop the whole subject.

"It didn't seem as though he thought that, no," he said.

"So he believed it?" I persisted.

"He said he was gonna talk to Steven. And I told him that we'd be expecting Steve to make an apology to you."

"You said that?" I asked, dismayed somewhat.

"Yeah."

"I don't want him to apologize, though. He wouldn't mean it."

"Well, I don't care if he means it. He needs to say it," Evan said stubbornly.

I thought that was sort of unnecessary. Or whatever. As we got to our feet to go back to work again, a sudden thought

occurred to me. I wasn't sure whether it was amusing or not.

"Ev?" I began, as we walked back over to the fence row.

"What?"

"How is he supposed to apologize to me?"

"What are you talkin' about?" Evan asked, sounding irritated.

"You told him he couldn't talk to me. Or look at me. So, how is he supposed to apologize?" I asked. When Evan stopped walking to

look at me, it was plain by the expression on his face that he'd forgotten the words he'd hurled at Steven.

"I forgot about that part," he said.

7


	43. Herd is home

When Nancy got there, in her little blue car, she came straight from her job at the Family Center. She was still wearing her work

shirt with her name tag on.

I had gone inside by that time, and Evan was finishing things up for the evening outside.

Clare had made the hamburgers, and was taking them off the griddle with a spatula when Nancy came in. I thought how

much like a family member that she was, because she only opened the front screen door, and called inside, "Hi!" before just

coming on in.

I took my glass of Koolaid, and went to meet her mid-way in the living room.

"Hey, wild child," she greeted me, in her usual cheerful fashion.

"Hi, Nanc," I responded.

We went on into the kitchen, and Nancy washed her hands at the sink, and we both began to set the table, while Clare reached

down to take the French fries from the oven.

"The oven sure heated up the kitchen," Clare said, fanning herself.

Evan came in the back door, and Nancy stopped setting the plates down, and went to greet him.

They hugged briefly, and kissed each other.

After Evan went to wash his hands, and I finished setting the table, Nancy got out the ketchup and BBQ sauce.

"There's iced tea in there, too," Clare said.

The five of us, including Isaac in his high chair, sat down at the table, all together at one end. We ate our simple supper of hamburgers and fries, and

then Clare got out the ice cream, and everybody made their own homemade sundae. I had one, too, though I only put on a little

bit of the chocolate syrup and a few cherries.

Evan went upstairs to take a shower after supper, and the three of us did up the dishes and cleaned the counters and table. After that,

it was my turn for the shower, and then, when I came back downstairs dressed in a pair of sweat pants and Willie Nelson t shirt, the four

of us played a game of cards.

I was yawning by the end of the game, and decided to head up to bed. I brought Clarence inside, and helped him up the stairs.

I was brushing my teeth when Nancy came to stand in the open doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the door frame.

"Hey," she said, looking serious.

"Hi," I said, around the toothpaste in my mouth.

"Evan says you had some trouble yesterday," she said, looking sympathetic.

I spit out the toothpaste into the sink. "Yeah."

"Don't be upset because he told me," she said then.

"I'm not," I said, and I wasn't, really. I knew it wasn't as though Evan would tell anybody and everybody about what

had happened. It was only natural that he would tell Nancy.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked me.

I looked at her, considering. I switched off the bathroom light, and stepped out into the hallway.

"Maybe," I said, slowly.

"Want to go into your room?" she asked then, and I said okay.

Once in my bedroom, I lifted Fat Clarence up onto the bed, where he burrowed under my quilt.

I curled up on my bed, crossing my legs, Indian-style. Nancy sat down opposite me, and sat the same way.

Then she was quiet, waiting for me to say something.

"I guess I'm wondering-" I began, slowly, "Why he changed so fast like he did?"

Nancy looked serious, contemplative.

"I mean," I went on, "He was nice for so long, and then-" I snapped my fingers, "Just like that, he got angry, and

all pissed off. I guess what I'm wondering is, why did me dancing one time with Eddie make Steven go so completely

nuts?"

"I think maybe, Steven has had feelings for a long time about you," Nancy said. "And he was handling it fairly alright, you know, keeping

it contained, because he was still hopeful. Hopeful that eventually you might start to think of him as a boyfriend.

And then, when he saw you with Eddie, well, that was just the snapping point for him."

She paused, looking at me, in a kind way. "At least, that's what I think."

"It was just a dance, though," I protested mildly. "It seems stupid that seeing me dance with Eddie would send him over the

edge like that."

"He knows you like Eddie, doesn't he?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah. I told him. But it was just a dance," I objected.

"He saw something between you and Eddie while you were dancing, maybe," Nancy suggested.

I looked at her in interest. "Like what?"

"Come on, Harlie. You know what I mean," Nancy said.

"I hope I wasn't that obvious, about how I feel about Eddie, in front of all those people that way," I said, feeling embarrassed.

"I didn't mean it like that," Nancy said. "I think Steven saw it in the way Eddie looked at you, too."

"You think he was looking at me a certain way?" I asked, pulling my knees up to my chest, and feeling all warm

and jumpy inside all of a sudden.

"Well, yeah," she said. "The same way that he looked at you at the Pizza Place that night you were out with Evan and I and Ford and

Valerie."

"Did he look at me a certain way that night?" I asked.

"Yes, Harlie," she said, with an eye roll. "He did."

I hugged that thought to myself. "Wow," I said.

"Yeah. Wow," Nancy said, with a smile.

Then she said, "I don't want to put a damper on your mood, but after going thru something like what happened with Steven, it's

normal to feel weird and a little nervous for awhile. Especially around a guy you don't know very well. You worry it might happen again."

I looked at her, and felt the truth of what she was saying.

"I guess I feel a little-" I hesitated, "betrayed. By what he did."

"Yeah," Nancy said. "That's understandable. For sure."

Clare paused, and knocked on my half-open door. "Hey, you two," she said, peeking in, Isaac in her arms. "I'm going on up to

bed. I wanted to say goodnight."

"Night, Clare," I said.

"Goodnight. Thanks for supper," Nancy told her.

I got up to go and give Isaac a kiss on the top of his downy head. He retaliated by grabbing at my hair. Then I gave Clare

a hug.

"Your hard-working guy is asleep on the couch downstairs," Clare told Nancy.

Nancy grinned and got up. "I bet he looks adorable," she said.

"Oh yes," Clare said, with a grin in return. "Snoring and adorable."

7

It wasn't long after breakfast, and after Evan and I were doing the morning chores, that we heard the pounding of cattle hooves

and then the hooting and hollering of cowboys driving those cattle.

I yelled for Evan.

"Run open the gate!" he yelled back, pointing to the back pasture, where he'd been doing all the work the last few days.

I ran to do that, opening the gate that I'd helped him put up the afternoon before. Swinging it open and wide.

I saw Evan putting a bridle on his horse, and climbing up on him, bareback. I ran over to the corral fence, climbing up.

"I'll get Charlie," I said.

"Just stay here and open the gate when we get close, so we can go thru to the back pasture," he said, and put Diablo into

motion.

Clare came out to stand on the porch to watch, and I waited beside the gate, ready to swing it open.

And then they were coming, so loud that the thundering was nearly earth shaking, or seemed to be.

I waited until I saw whoever the first rider was, it was hard to tell at that point, raised his arm in a signal to me to

open the gate. I fumbled with the chain, trying to hurry. When I had it undone, I opened it to its full width, swung back against

the corral fence. And then, in order to hold it into place, and to stay out of harm's way myself, I climbed up onto the fence to lean.

The herd, flanked on all sides, and from behind, by riders, came running thru, across the barnyard, and across the yard, into

the back pasture. It seemed like a stream of cattle, never-ending legs and heads and the sounds of all that mooing.

Crane was at the end, along with Guthrie, and by then the rest of my brothers had put the herd successfully into the back

pasture. Crane called to me to close the gate. So I hopped down, and refastened the chain.

I ran over to say hello to Crane as he dismounted.

"Hey, peanut," he greeted me.

"Hi."

"How are things here?" he asked then.

"Fine," I said.

"That's good," he said, taking off his gloves and sticking them into the back pocket of his jeans.

Guthrie was there beside us then, too.

"Hey, Har," he greeted me.

"Hi."

"I hope there's plenty to eat," he said. "I'm starving."

"There's some hamburgers left over from last night's supper," I told him.

"Alright!" Guthrie said happily.

"Tend to your horse before you go in and start eating," Crane told him.

"I'm gonna," Guthrie said, and led his horse off towards the corral to unsaddle him.

"Want me to take your horse for you?" I offered to Crane.

"I got it," Crane said. "You might want to see if they need any help. Adam got his hand cut up last night pretty badly."

"Okay," I said, and ran to join the rest of the family, who were gathered at the gate that Evan and I had put up, looking at

the herd of cattle milling around.

"We made it," Brian said, and there was satisfaction in his voice. And relief, too.

"Praise the Lord," Hannah said, and reached out to take Isaac from Clare, kissing him all over his little face.

Adam, too, paused and put a kiss on the top of the baby's head. "Hey there, little buddy," he said. I could see that one of his hands was

completely wrapped in tan bandages, the sort that come on the roll.

Hannah was telling Clare that she wanted her to have a look at Adam's hand. "I did what I could," Hannah was saying. "But

I think he needs stitches."

"You already sewed me up," Adam said, still muzzling the baby.

"That's not real stitches, Adam McFadden," Hannah told him. "Let Clare look at it."

"I will. I will," Adam said.

"What about the bull?" Evan was asking. "Want to leave him where he's at for the time being?"

"Yeah. Let's just leave him with those heifers for a bit," Brian said.

They all stood there, looking at the herd of cattle that had been driven into the back pasture.

"It looks good, Evan," Adam said, in praise. "I didn't think you'd have it done."

"Yeah, Ev," Brian added. "You must have worked your ass off."

"He nearly did," Clare said.

"Harlie helped me out a lot," Evan said, and I looked at him to thank him, but he wasn't looking at me. He was helping coil up

a rope that Adam had been carrying in his injured hand.

"That's great. Good job, peach," Brian said.

As everybody started towards the corral to unsaddle their horses, Daniel reached out to take the reins of Dandy from

Adam. "I'll do it," he said.

"Thanks, Dan'l," Adam said.

"I'll find some stuff for lunch," Clare was saying, and she and Hannah went up the front steps, talking, and with Hannah

carrying Isaac.

So I found myself walking along beside Adam, as Guthrie ran past us, obviously intent on getting something to eat.

"I appreciate you bein' so much help around here," Adam said to me.

"It's alright," I said, looking up at him. "What did you do to your hand?"

"Just a little disagreement with a cow," Adam said lightly, and I thought how typical of him that was, to make light of an injury

of his own. If that had been any of us, he would have been entirely different about it.

"Want me to make some coffee?" I asked him.

"I'd be so grateful for that, I might be convinced to raise your allowance," he said jokingly.

Guthrie and I don't get an allowance, in truth. Not a set amount of money each week, or anything like that. We get paid

a certain amount when cows are sold, just like everybody else. Though for sure we don't get as much, since we don't pay

any of the bills in the house. We're expected to save some of the money for things we might need, and the rest is like our spending

money. If Guthrie or I need something and don't have any money of our own, then we can usually go to one of our

brothers, and borrow some. Adam was joking, like I said, knowing full well that we didn't get handed an allowance on a schedule.

"We'll settle up with you," he said then, serious now.

"Okay," I said.

I went in to get the coffee pot going, while Clare began looking thru the refrigerator for lunch items. I mixed up another pitcher of

iced sweet tea. Hannah went upstairs to take a bath, saying that she had two days of trail dust on her. Adam sat down at the

kitchen table, holding Isaac, and talking to him.

Guthrie was already pulling out the bread, and making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Then he began to open cabinets. "We have any potato chips?" he asked, in a general way. To either Clare or I, I guessed.

I went over and opened a cabinet at the other end, pulling out three bags of chips. "They've only been kept in this

same cabinet for like a hundred years or so," I told Guthrie dryly.

"Just bring 'em over here," Guthrie said, unperturbed, as he sat down in his own chair at the table, and bit into his sandwich.

I put the potato chips in front of him, and he opened the Cheetos first, pulling out a handful.

By now, brothers were beginning to filter thru the back door into the kitchen. Washing their hands at the sink, talking over

one another. The kitchen was a sudden burst of energy and noise.

Crane passed on thru, going towards the living room. Probably, I thought, to check the bills that had come in the mail

the last couple of days.

Clare had pulled out the hamburgers, and a big salad, cottage cheese and a plate of fruit, and was setting it all onto the table.

I wasn't all that hungry for lunch yet, but I sat and listened to them all talk about the roundup, and then I got up to get the coffee

when it was done, and brought cups over to the table. I poured for Adam and Brian, since I knew they were a definite yes, but

I asked Crane and Daniel, since they're only occasional coffee drinkers. Guthrie, meanwhile, was drinking milk, and Ford and Evan

iced tea.

"Thanks, sugar," Adam said, smiling at me as I filled his cup. "Did you make it strong?"

"Strong enough to walk on its own," I told him, saying the joke that we sometimes exchanged.

"So," Brian said then, from his seat beside Clare, "How was everything around here? Any problems?"

I paused, coffee pot in my hand. I cast a glance at Evan and at Clare, without even intending to.

I knew very well, as Evan did, that Brian meant problems with the stock, or the bull, or any trespassers cutting fence or anything

like that.

I also knew that it was only a matter of time before the altercation with Steven came up as the topic of conversation.

"No problems with the stock," Evan said, in truth.

"Any news from the sheriff about anything?" Adam asked then.

"Nope. Nothin' like that," Evan said.

Evan met my eyes, and I could tell he was getting ready to let forth with the Steven story.

I shook my head at him, and mouthed the words, 'not now'."

"We did have a problem, though," Evan went on.

I shook my head at him again, more insistently. "Ev-" I said in protest.

I saw that my head shaking had not gone unnoticed, by anyone at the table, except for Guthrie, who was busy, finishing

off the bag of Cheetos.

"Stop shakin' your head no at me," Evan told me, though he said it quietly.

"What's peach done now?" Brian asked, and I could see that he was half-serious, half-joking.

"She didn't do anything," Evan said, in my defense. All eyes were on me at that point, and I turned away, going to put

the coffee pot back where it belonged.

I stood where I was, leaning against the counter. "I don't see why we have to talk about it now like this," I protested, though

I knew I had no chance of prolonging it. "Everybody just got back, and they're all tired."

Adam gave me a knowing look, half-turned in his chair. "Come back over here," he told me, and I came reluctantly, to

stand beside his chair.

"So," he said. "What's up?"

I looked at Evan, and then at Clare, who was looking full of sympathy for me.

"Steven and I had a-" I hesitated over the words. "A problem."

"What sort of problem?" Crane asked. They had all pretty much stopped eating at that point, and were looking at me.

I was suddenly, inexplicably, embarrassed. I knew it was the family, and that they all loved me, and all of that. But it was

just so many faces to talk to, all at once that way.

I looked at Clare for help.

"Steven came over to see Harlie the other night," Clare began. "He wanted to do things that she didn't want to do. There was

an altercation."

I could tell that Clare had chosen her words with care, trying not to say more than was necessary.

At first there was silence at the table. It seemed a long while of silence, though in truth it couldn't have been more than a couple

of seconds.

"What sort of things?" Brian asked then, in a deadly quiet tone. I knew he wasn't stupid, and figured he wasn't asking so much

as he was affirming.

"He wanted to kiss on you?" Adam asked then, his jaw set.

"Sort of," I said, quietly.

"What do you mean, sort of?" Brian said, raising his voice a little. "What did he do?"

"He got real rough with her," Evan said, speaking up. I figured he was tired of dancing around the situation.

Brian stood up so quickly that his chair nearly fell over backward. "I'm gonna call his father. We'll see what he has to

say about it!"

"Brian, sit down," Clare said, pulling at Brian's shirt sleeve. "Evan already did that."

Brian looked across the table at Evan, and then, after a long moment, he sat back down again.

Everybody looked so tense after that, with varying degrees of anger in their faces and mannerisms.

I suddenly felt like I was going to burst if I didn't get some air.

"Excuse me," I said, and brushed past them all, though I was aware of Daniel reaching out to try to catch my hand.

"Hey," he said, but I walked past.

I went out to the front porch, where I lifted Clarence from his sunning spot, into the porch swing, and then I sat down beside him.

At least, I thought, they could all discuss it now, and I didn't have to hear it. Maybe they would get it all talked about and it would be

done.

I don't know how long that I sat there, it couldn't have been that long. And I heard the screen door squeak as it was pushed

open, and then flap shut.

In my head, I was making bets on who was coming to talk to me. I wasn't surprised that it was Daniel. He lifted Clarence from the

swing back to the porch floor. Clarence gave him an accusing look, and went back to lay on the top step in the sunshine.

Daniel sat down in the Clarence-vacated spot. And then he started the swing to moving with the toe of his boot, really gently.

He laid his arm across the back of the swing, not really touching my shoulders, just lifting my hair a little, and working it between his

fingers gently.

"Rough stuff, huh?" he said.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," he said then, and I turned to look at him.

I guess he could read the question on my face before I spoke it.

"If something happens to you, and it hurts you, then I'm sorry for it," he said. "That's just the way it is."

"It's not your fault, though," I said quietly.

"Nor was it yours," Daniel said, sounding firm. I met his eyes. There was a covering of dust on his hair, and smudges of dirt

on his cheek.

"You need a shower," I told him.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm okay."

"There's never any reason or excuse for a male not to listen to a female when she says no," Daniel said then, quietly. "Never."

I looked at him, and nodded in understanding of what he was saying.

"So, did Evan go a little bat shit crazy on the kid?" Daniel asked, and I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood.

I thought of the way that Evan had pushed Steven up against the wall of the living room, and jerked him around.

"Yeah," I said. "A little bit."

7


	44. Too many marbles

The afternoon went by swiftly. Even though they were all exhausted from being on roundup for three days, none

of them just sat around, whiling away the time. They jumped back in to chores, seeing what needed to be done.

It was later in the day, closer to the supper hour, when I finished feeding the goats, and went to take a treat to

Petra and Charlie.

Perched atop the fence, leaning over, I didn't hear anyone coming up until he was nearly next to me.

"Hey there, sugar," Adam said, settling one of his boots on the first rung of the fence.

"Hi," I said.

He stood there looking at me, serious and worried, and I knew what was on his mind.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay," I told him.

"I think we should talk about it."

I finished with giving the horse treats, and wiped Charlie's horse slobber on my jeans. I hopped down from my perch

on the fence.

"I misjudged Steven. I thought he was nice. He turned out to be a jerk." I shrugged lightly.

"So that's all there is to it, huh?" Adam asked.

"Evan talked to me. So did Daniel. I know all about a guy being supposed to listen when he's told 'no'."

"Okay. " He studied me for another moment intently. "It hurts though, doesn't it? When somebody you thought was

a friend, turns out not to be so great of a person?"

The way he said it, it wasn't really a question. It was more a statement about it hurting.

"Yeah," I said, in agreement. Just thinking about it all, from not having Steven to hang around with anymore, to the fact

that he'd turned so quickly into someone unrecognizable, it all made me feel really badly inside. Not that I wanted to hang

around with him anymore, but it was the whole fact of not having him as a friend. It was hard to explain.

"Evan told him he had to apologize to me."

"I know."

"I'd just like to skip that part," I said, lightly.

Adam looked thoughtful. "Well, we'll see," he said.

He put a hand at the back of my neck. "I wish I had a way to make sure that things like this would never happen to

you," he said. I took a step closer and put my arms around his waist, looking up at him.

"It's okay," I said. I didn't really know what else to say. I knew he meant it, about wishing he could protect me

from everything that would hurt me, or bother me.

"Well, even if he were to apologize, I don't want you going anywhere with him again," Adam said.

"I'm pretty sure that I won't want to," I told him.

"I'm just warning you off, in case you change your mind about that." He sounded calm enough, but I could tell

he wasn't just saying the words. He meant them.

Looking at him as I was, I saw the dust of the trail thru his tanned face. He looked so tired. And so worried.

"You're tired," I said, in statement.

"I just need a good night's sleep. I'll be fine."

"I'm okay. About Steven, I mean. I'm upset about it, and all. But, I'm not-traumatized, or anything like that. Really," I said.

"Okay. Well, if you do want to talk about it, all you have to do is let me know. Alright?"

I nodded. "I will."

7

That night, as I was laying on my bed, reading, there was a tap at my door, which I'd left half-open.

I twisted to look towards the doorway.

Guthrie stood there, obviously just out of the shower, because his hair was still wet.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey."

He just stood there, not coming in any further, and not saying anything else. I switched from laying on my

stomach to a sitting position, my legs crossed Indian-style.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothin' much," he said.

Well. This conversation was going nowhere fast.

"How was the rest of the roundup?" I asked him then.

"Alright."

"That's good," I said, and waited to see what he would say then.

Nothing. He said nothing.

"What's wrong, Guth?" I finally asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Nothin's wrong."

I studied him, and thought about just demanding what he wanted, but that's not always the best way to

handle Guthrie. He seemed bothered by something. Or at least, as though he had something on his mind.

"Want to come in and hang out awhile?" I asked him.

Guthrie shrugged, noncommittal.

"We could play a game of checkers," I suggested.

"Sure. If you want to," he said.

"You go down and find the checkers, and I'll make us some popcorn," I said.

I put extra butter on the popcorn, and by the time I met back up with Guthrie in my room, he had moved

my small desk over closer to the bed, and had the Chinese checker game set up, instead of the regular checkers.

"We haven't played this in forever," I said.

Guthrie pulled the desk chair over and sat down on one side of the desk. I perched myself on the edge of my bed, handing

him his own separate bowl of popcorn.

We began to play the game, each munching on our popcorn, and arguing good-naturedly about the rules.

"You can't do that," I was telling Guthrie when he jumped several of my marbles at one time.

"Yeah, you can," Guthrie insisted.

Ford, who'd wandered in to lay across my bed and watch the game a while earlier, was now looking amused.

"He can't, can he, Ford?" I appealed to Ford.

"You can jump as many times in one play as you can," Ford said.

"Ha!" Guthrie said, in triumph.

"Oh, boo," I said, and took another handful of popcorn. When we'd finished the one game, Guthrie wanted to play another,

but I told him I didn't want to. So he packed the game back up, and then the three of us just sat around for a while, finishing

off the popcorn, until Ford and I started tossing it at Guthrie, as he sat with his mouth wide open.

That turned out to be really entertaining. Ford and I took turns tossing it into Guthrie's mouth, and we were counting,

on number 12, when Brian came to lean in the doorway, watching.

"Look, Bri," I said. "He hasn't missed once."

Ford tossed number thirteen, and Guthrie caught it neatly in his mouth, and chewed it, grinning at the three of us.

"Just plain, darn, amazing," Brian said dryly.

I tossed and Guthrie caught number fourteen. I giggled.

"It's just a shame that we can't find you some work doing this full time," Brian told Guthrie.

"Exactly what I was thinkin'," Guthrie said, with a grin.

"You kids ought to be gettin' to bed soon," Brian said.

After Brian had said good night and gone, Ford left shortly thereafter. Guthrie pulled the desk back over to where it

was supposed to be, and set the chair next to it.

And then he just stood there again, looking at me. "It sucks," he said then. "About Steven."

Oh. So that was what had prompted Guthrie to appear at my door earlier this evening. He hadn't known exactly

how to approach the subject of Steven and what had happened.

I looked at Guthrie, from where I sat on the edge of my bed. "Yeah," I said, in agreement.

"I'm sorry, Har," he said. And then he shrugged lightly, and added, "I don't really know what to say. To make you feel better,

I mean."

I shrugged in return. And then I gave him a half-smile. "You know what? You just said it."

"I didn't say nothin'," he said, looking puzzled.

"I can tell you care," I told him. "That's all you have to do, Guth."

Guthrie looked at me, and then nodded. "Yeah. Okay." He went to the door. "'Night, hyena," he said.

"Goodnight, elephant ears," I said.

7

The next couple of days passed in a haze of high temperatures, the sort that make you feel as though you can't get

a breath.

Having so many cattle in the area that Evan had fenced off became problematic fairly quickly. It was just too many cattle

for a pasture of that size. Not enough grass. A short term solution was to buy some large round bales of hay, even though

it was too early in the year to be feeding hay.

We had a few bales left from winter, and the family began discussing the best place to buy more at.

One evening as I was gathering up a snack before going to sit on the front porch with everybody, the phone rang.

Brian, on his way out to join the family, paused at the screen door. "You gonna get that, peach?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I said, and picked up the telephone.

My 'Hello?' was answered with silence for the briefest moment, and then I heard Steven's voice say, "Harlie?" in a

tentative way.

I was silent, and he asked again, "Harlie?"

"What?" I asked then, shortly.

"It's Steven."

"I know," I said.

"I'm calling to tell you that I'm sorry, about how everything turned out, between us."

"Uh huh," I said drily.

"I shouldn't have gotten so rough," he said.

"No. You shouldn't have."

"I just wanted to have you understand-" he began.

"I understand," I said, in a clipped tone.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then, he said, "You gave me a black eye, did you know that?"

I thought he was probably just making that up. "Did I? Imagine that," I said.

I heard him sigh heavily into the mouthpiece of the telephone. "Do you think you can tell your brothers to lay off of

me?" he asked.

Brothers? What was he talking about?

"Evan called your father because he wanted to. I couldn't have stopped him, even if I'd wanted to," I told him. "Which I

didn't."

"Evan, alright. I get that. But after Brian and Guthrie, I feel like that's enough-"

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. "What about Brian?"

"He came over here. To our house. Talked to my father and then they made me stand there while Brian lambasted me."

"Oh, well," I said, sounding careless. Then, I said, "What about Guthrie?"

"He-" Steven began, and then paused. "Never mind what he did. Just tell them I've apologized, alright? I don't need

any more of them giving me grief."

"I'm not responsible for what they do," I said curtly. "Maybe you shouldn't be such a piece of-"

"Alright, alright," he interrupted. Silence for a moment again.

"Are you finished?" I said rudely.

"Yeah. I'll see you around, I guess."

"Not if I can avoid it," I said, and hung up.

After I hung up, I had to set my glass of milk down, because my hands were shaking. For some unknown reason, I felt almost

as stirred up as I had the night the altercation with Steven had happened. What had happened to the guy I'd thought was

my friend?

I wasn't all that surprised about Brian, really. It was like something that he would do. I was curious about Guthrie, though, wondering

what it was that had happened between them. And when.

After a few minutes, I felt calmer, and picked up my glass, going outside to join everybody on the front porch.

There was a spot left on the top step, where Brian sat with Clare, his arm around her shoulders.

"Who was on the phone?" he asked me.

"Steven," I said quietly, and watched his expression.

He only nodded briefly, and went on talking to everybody else.

We all sat outside, until it was dusk, and then gradually everybody began drifting into the house.

The kitchen was the busy room after that, with the refrigerator being raided and cabinets being opened and closed,

and everybody still talking.

Gradually, though, too, it thinned out, as everybody said their goodnights. I was finished with my shot, and putting everything

away, when Brian came back inside from the back door.

"Clarence is whining," he told me.

"He probably wants to come inside," I answered.

"Darn dog is spoiled," Brian said.

"He's old, Bri," I said.

Brian pushed the screen door open again, and Clarence ambled inside, pausing to look up at Brian, as if

in appreciation. I turned around just in time to see Brian giving Clarence's aged head an affectionate rub.

"I saw that," I teased.

"Saw what?" he said.

As he came back over to the table, taking another couple of cookies from the plate left there, I leaned against

the counter, and faced him. "Bri?"

"What?"

"Steven says you came over to his house."

Brian faced me, his expression unreadable. He didn't say anything.

"He says you really let him have it," I went on.

Still he was quiet.

I pushed myself off of the edge of the counter, and went to stand in front of him.

"You didn't have to, you know," I said quietly.

"Yeah, I did."

I looked up into his face, and then wrapped my arms around his middle. "Thanks," I said.

He patted my back with the hand that wasn't holding the cookies. "Time for bed," he said.

7


	45. Beauty marred

Over the next two days or so, in between chores, and all of that, Crane took Ford and Guthrie and I back up to

where the wild Mustangs sometimes traveled thru. We rode in the Jeep part way, and then hiked the rest of the way, armed with

canteens of water, and snacks I carried in my backpack. And both Crane and Ford carried a rifle.

I kept talking all the while I was hiking, telling Ford and Guthrie how beautiful the Mustangs were. Such a sight to see. Until I had to

stop talking so much, to save my energy and my breath for hiking up the hills.

Once we reached the same spot, the one that Crane had brought me to the other time, we were all glad to find a place to

sit down.

Crane had brought his camera, with the telephoto lens, and he lowered himself to sit on a rock. Ford and Guthrie sat down

on the ground, after Guthrie had walked back and forth on the ridge for a few minutes, looking at things.

Crane was cautioning us all, just as he had me, that we may not see the Mustangs at all that day. It was 'the luck of the draw',

as he said.

So we just sat and waited, for what seemed like the longest time. Ford even stretched out on the grass, and dozed off.

I took the camera and looked out thru the long distance lens, looking at scenery and keeping my eyes out for the Mustangs.

I thought I could hear them coming, the thundering of their hooves, from a far-off distance, but then it seemed to stop.

We waited for almost two hours before we heard them coming for real. Guthrie nudged Ford awake with the toe of his boot, and Ford,

still stretched out on the grass, half-sat up.

"They're comin'," Guthrie told him, standing up, his face lit up with excitement.

And they were. The were on the run. I was using the telephoto lens to see them better, and Guthrie was

using our old pair of binoculars.

At first, it was just as beautiful as I remembered. We were all standing up, on the edge of the ridge, watching. Guthrie

passed the binoculars off to Ford, and I offered Crane the camera.

"You can take as good of pictures as I can," Crane told me, waving his hand at me to keep the camera.

So I adjusted the lens, and started shooting some pictures. I was so focused on them, their running, that I didn't see

anything at first. And then I heard Guthrie say, "What's goin' on?" and noticed that he and Ford both took steps forward,

peering thru the binoculars.

"What?" I asked, lowering the camera.

And then I saw. There were men on horseback, riding behind the herd of Mustangs, obviously herding them.

"What are they doing?" I asked, turning to look up at Crane.

Crane didn't answer at first. He squinted a little, and took the camera from my hand, using the telephoto lens

to see more.

There were about six men. I thought at first five, but then I saw the sixth one riding up. A couple of them were waving

their hats as they ran the horses.

In just what seemed to be a matter of moments, the horses were going, going, and nearly gone from sight, running

on further into the canyon, flanked by those men on horseback.

"What are they doing?" I asked Crane again.

"Herding them somewhere," Crane said, sounding terse.

"Where?" I asked.

Nobody answered that.

Crane turned, and without saying a word, began to hike down the incline. We all followed, Guthrie, then me, because Ford

motioned me to go ahead of him.

Crane was walking so fast, and his legs are so long, that I, and even Ford, had a hard time keeping up.

"What's the big rush?" Ford asked.

"They maybe are catchin' 'em to break, huh?" Guthrie asked, but nobody answered either question. We hiked on, and in way less time

than it had taken to hike up, we were back at the Jeep. Crane climbed behind the wheel, and immediately fired up the motor.

"Come on," he said, sounding urgent, and Guthrie and I hustled to climb up into the back, while Ford got in the passenger seat.

We had barely settled in the seat when Crane put the Jeep into motion, taking a decidedly different way than what we'd come.

"Where are you going?" I heard Ford ask, over the wind rushing past.

I scooted forward in my seat, to be able to hear better.

"I want to see where they're running those horses," Crane said.

"There aren't as many as when you took me up there before, are there?" I asked, loud enough to be heard.

"No. Not nearly as many," Crane said.

I had no idea where we were at, but Crane seemed to know where he was heading to. When he stopped the Jeep, the other

three of us got out, and followed him without question.

"Grab the binoculars," he told Guthrie, and we waited while Guthrie went back to fetch them.

Again, we walked. Up hills, and down hills. Thru grassy open areas. I could feel my heart pounding. With excitement, I thought.

Or nerves. This whole thing had such a "sleuth" type feel to it.

When Crane finally stopped walking, we all halted, as we were walking in a single file line behind him.

Then he seemed as if he was listening for something. I too, thought I could hear something. It was the pounding of what

sounded like hooves, and there was some yelling, too. The calls of cowboys who were herding animals.

Crane held up a hand, to halt the rest of us. We stopped walking, and gathered closer around him.

"Are they close by?" Ford asked, looking around, low.

"Further than they sound, I think," Crane said.

"What are you gonna do?" Ford asked, as Guthrie said, sounding impatient, "Come on. Let's go take a look."

"Settle down, Guthrie," Crane cautioned.

"Ford, stay here with Harlie. Keep the rifle handy. I'm going to take a closer look, and I'll be back," Crane said. "Guthrie, you

come with me. Bring the binoculars."

There was no point to protest about staying behind, because Crane had already gone, disappearing into the trees, Guthrie

behind him.

"What's going on, do you think?" I asked Ford, quietly. "Just some cowboy wannabes, that want to be able to say

they caught their own Mustang?"

"I don't know. Maybe," he said.

"Well, what else?" I asked him, wondering what he was thinking. He looked so serious.

Ford shook his head in answer.

We sat, amid the grasses, or rather I sat. Ford stood most of the time, leaning against a tree, watching and listening.

I was pulling at tufts of grass, when there was the sound of someone coming back thru the trees, boots crunching.

Ford put a finger to his lips, visibly relieved when Crane spoke in a low tone. "It's us, Ford."

I got to my feet, as they walked up. I was so curious, but no questions were answered then, because

Crane said, "Let's go," and we started walking again.

Once back at the Jeep, we all stood to one side, and Crane said, "They've got three or four temporary corrals set up. They're

running the Mustangs into there."

"Why so many?" Ford asked.

Before Crane could formulate an answer to the question, we could hear a whirring.

It was coming from the air, and we all instinctively looked up. A helicopter came skirfing along over the tops of the trees,

heading in the opposite direction.

Guthrie shielded his eyes from the sunlight coming thru the trees, and took a few steps, out of the range of trees, so as to see the helicopter

more clearly, I figured.

"Guthrie, come back here," Crane ordered, and Guthrie stepped back, looking puzzled.

"What?" he asked.

"Stay here under the trees. I don't want them to see you. Or any of us," Crane said.

"How come?" Guthrie asked, but he stood still, as we all did, still looking up, hearing the helicopter seemingly right

over our heads.

When it finally picked up speed, and whirled away, we could see it disappearing in the distance.

"Let's head home," Crane said, and we all, once again, climbed into our respective seats in the Jeep, and began

driving out, until we were in familiar enough territory that I recognized where we were at.

After that, there was more conversation.

I was the one who began it, scooting forward to ask Crane, "Are they wanting to catch and break them?"

"No, I don't think so," he said, but then said no more. Even from where I was sitting, in the back seat, I could

tell from his profile that he was deep in thought, and seemed bothered.

"They wouldn't be the first ones to want to catch their own wild Mustang," Ford offered, in support of my question.

"No, they wouldn't," Crane said, in seeming agreement.

"But?" Ford prompted him, obviously sensing the same reticence in Crane's reply that I did.

"Something's going on," Crane said. "I think it's more than that."

"You think they're selling them to the factories?" Ford asked, and I had to lean closer to hear over the wind whipping past.

"Maybe," Crane said.

"What sort of factories?" I asked, and Guthrie turned to give me a disbelieving look.

"Come on, Har," he said. "You know what kind."

As realization dawned, I felt my stomach knot in disgust. And sadness, too.

"You mean glue?" I asked.

As Guthrie nodded, Ford added, from the front, "Or pet food."

Now that I hadn't ever heard about. I squeezed the back of Ford's seat in my fist.

"What?" I asked, incredulously.

"Dog food," Guthrie offered in detailed information.

"What?" I asked again, horrified. Not asking again because I didn't hear what he said. But because I couldn't wrap

my head around such a thing.

Crane turned his head, just enough to shoot me a glance. He didn't say anything, but he reached a hand back,

and gave one of my knees a pat, before putting his hands back on the steering wheel.

After that, I slumped back in the seat, not even trying to catch the conversation. The thought of those beautiful

animals, with all their shades of colors, being killed to become dog food, or glue, made me feel physically ill.

Back at the house, Crane parked the Jeep, in its regular spot beside the barn. Daniel, who was coming from around the back

of the house, called to us, and waved. "Supper's on!" he hollered, going up the front porch steps, and inside.

Jethro Bodine came bounding over, and greeted Guthrie with joy, standing on his back legs, his front paws on

Guthrie's chest. Guthrie patted him, scratching behind his ears. They were all out of the Jeep by now, and I just sat

there, slumped against the seat.

"Hey," Ford said, pausing to look at me.

Crane paused, too, his glance at me concerned. "Suppertime, peanut," he said, quietly.

"Not for me," I said. "I feel like I'll throw up if I try to eat."

Ford gave me a sorrowful glance, and then looked to Crane. Then Ford went around the back of the Jeep, and gave

Guthrie a light slap on the shoulder. "Come on, Guth," he said. And the two of them started off towards the house.

Crane laid the camera that he carried in his hand in the driver's seat, and came around to the other side of the Jeep, to

where I sat.

He leaned against the side of the Jeep, not saying anything.

"It's just not right," I said, more to myself than to him.

"Nope," he said, in quiet agreement.

"It's not legal?" I asked, in sudden thought, looking at him for confirmation.

"It's not black and white, exactly. More of a gray area."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means-" he paused, "that the ranchers and the activists can't agree. On whether the herds need to be thinned out, and

how exactly that happens."

"Why would ranchers want them thinned out?" I asked.

"They tear up fences. Graze the land needed for the cattle."

I looked up at his face, feeling as though I wanted to protest, though he wasn't the one I needed to protest to, I knew that.

"It bothers you a lot, though, doesn't it?" I asked him, quietly, sure of the answer.

"Yes. It does."

"And you're a rancher," I said.

"Yeah."

I studied him for a long moment, thinking. "But most ranchers? They feel differently than you do, right?"

Crane sighed a little. "Some do."

I had the sudden horrible thought that Brian and Adam might be in that other 'group' of ranchers. The ones that considered

the wild horses to be a nuisance. Not that they were cruel. Or heartless. They weren't. Not at all. Before I could say anything more,

Crane said, "Let's go in. Time to sit down and eat."

"I don't think I can eat," I said, again.

Usually Crane is really 'mother-henny' about my eating habits, because of my diabetes and all. But at this moment, he

just gave me a look I could only describe as understanding.

"Maybe a glass of milk. And some bread and butter, at least?" he asked, and held out a hand to me.

I took his hand, and jumped down to the ground. He picked up the camera again, and kept hold of my hand, even as we walked across the yard, toward

the house.

7


	46. Manes in the wind

Once inside the house, I washed my hands at the kitchen sink, and helped finish getting supper on the table. Hannah was upstairs,

with Isaac, rocking him. Clare said he'd been fussy most of the afternoon. That in itself, is unusual. He's usually such a happy go lucky

little guy.

"Is he runnin' a temperature?" Adam asked, drying his hands with a dishtowel, his forehead lined with concern.

"A low-grade one," Clare said.

"I'll go up and check on him, then," Adam said, and started towards the back stairs.

"I'll keep a plate warm for you," Clare said.

"Thanks," Adam said, and headed up.

After the food was all set onto the table, and everybody was in their seats, the conversation turned, naturally enough, to

what we'd seen with the Mustangs.

It was Guthrie who brought it up, and Evan and Daniel both started asking questions. I could tell from a couple of things that

Evan said, and by the look on his face, that he felt compassion for the horses.

Crane was actually fairly quiet during the conversation, and with where I sit at, with Guthrie and Clare between Brian and I,

it was hard to judge Brian's reaction.

"How many?" he asked.

"They probably ran forty or so into those pens," Guthrie said, leaning forward so he could address Brian. "Wouldn't you

say so, Crane?"

"Yeah," Crane said.

"And then there were others, and they were weeding them out, it looked like," Guthrie said then.

I hadn't known that part of it, and I was curious about it. Still, I didn't ask any questions at that point.

I drank milk, and ate my pork chop. After a few bites of carrots, I shook my head as Guthrie offered me a piece of

bread.

I got to my feet, and went to scrape my plate into the dog dish just outside the back door. I carried my plate over to the sink,

and then went to look at the dishwashing duty list. Guthrie and Daniel.

I went out the back door, where Warrior had taken the bone from the pork chop and snatched it from under Gus's nose. He was

happily ensconced under the hammock, crunching on the bone.

I went to sit in the hammock, lifting Clarence up to sit with me, and rubbing his ear as I watched the clouds rolling by.

After awhile, the back door opened, and Crane stepped out. "Phone for you, peanut," he told me.

"Okay," I said, and scrambled out of the hammock, putting Clarence on the ground. He stood there, holding the door

open, as I passed by in front of him, and past Guthrie and Daniel, who were still working on the dishes, and alternately flicking

each other with dishtowels.

When I went into the living room, Brian and Clare were sitting there, across from Adam and Hannah, and Isaac was asleep on

Adam's chest. Crane followed me and sat down in the chair to the side of Hannah.

My 'hello?' was answered by Lori's cheerful voice.

"Hey, Harlie-boo," she greeted me, using an old nickname from elementary school. "Can you come over for a while? Watch

a movie or something?"

I considered. That sounded like fun. I hadn't gotten to hang out with Lori for awhile.

"Sounds fun," I said. "Hang on a second." I laid the phone down on the little table, and went to stand closer to them all, and

they looked at me expectantly.

"What's up?" Brian asked me.

"Lori wants to know if I could come over for awhile," I said, as Daniel walked into the living room, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"To her house?" Adam asked.

I nodded. "Watch a movie, maybe."

"What if that Seth's in town?" Hannah asked, sounding worried.

"I'd just be at Lori's," I said. "We wouldn't go out."

For a couple of long moments, nobody said anything. Then Crane spoke up.

"I think she should go," he said. "She'll be fine at Lori's, and it's not right that her summer's been so limited."

I looked at Crane, surprised at what he was saying. When he glanced at me, I smiled at him gratefully, and he

gave me a half-smile in return.

Daniel said, "I'm goin' into town for awhile tonight. I can drop her off and then pick her up later on."

Adam nodded. "That's alright, then," he said.

"You make sure you stay right there at Lori's house," Brian said, from his spot on the couch. "You hear?"

"Yes, I hear," I said, and went back to the telephone to tell Lori that I could come. We talked for a few minutes, and then

I turned to ask Daniel what time he was leaving.

"Let me wash up and change my shirt, and then we can head in," Daniel said.

I told Lori that I'd be there shortly, and I went upstairs then, to change my own clothes.

7

Before I left with Daniel, I thought suddenly about Isaac, and went to sit on the edge of the couch, running a finger over

the baby's cheek, as he looked at me out of wide eyes, his cheek laying on Adam's chest. "Is he feeling better?" I asked.

"He's teething, I think," Hannah said. "He has his daddy now, and that always helps him feel better."

That made Adam feel good, I could tell, even though he didn't say anything.

Crane was out on the front porch, leaning against one of the porch pillars, as Daniel and I came out.

"Have fun at Lori's," he told me. And to Daniel, he said, "You be careful."

"I will," Daniel answered.

Once in the cab of Daniel's truck, I put on my seat belt, and then we began the drive into Murphys.

The sun was just starting to lower a bit, and the horses were at the fence near the road, at the end of the driveway, as if telling us

goodbye.

We had the windows down as we were driving.

"Do you have a date tonight?" I asked him.

"Nope. No date."

"A poker game?" I guessed next.

Daniel gave me a sideways glance, and a grin.

"No poker game."

"You going to rob the bank, then?" I suggested, smiling back.

"I hadn't planned to."

"You're being mysterious," I said, more serious now. "And Crane told you to be careful-"

"There's no mystery to it, squirt. I'm just gonna shoot some pool, and have a couple beers."

By now, we were pulling up in front of Lori's house.

I paused, my hand on the door handle.

"I'll be back around ten or so to pick you up," Daniel said. "Alright?"

"Yes," I said, with a nod. "You'll be okay, right?"

"Don't worry about me," he said. "Go on, and have some fun, for a change."

"Okay," I said, and opened the door to get out. "Bye."

"See you later."

I went up to the front door of Lori's house, turning back to look and see that Daniel had waited until I knocked and

Lori opened the door, and I was safely inside, before he pulled away.

7

I had a good time at Lori's. We watched a movie, and ate a bunch of snacks that her mom fixed for us. I was glad to see

that her mother seemed to have forgiven me for my part in the party Lori and I had gone to a few months earlier. And then also

I'd said I was at their house when I was really meeting up with Karissa. So, considering all that, I was thankful that Lori's mom

didn't hold anything against me.

Lori's dad works a lot out of town, so he's not around much. And her brother, Brent, is pretty much of a jerk. He came thru the living

room as we were watching the movie, and when Lori asked him something, something simple, about if he'd taken money she had

on top of her dresser in her room, he started yelling at her.

Then to top it off, he came up from behind, and smacked her on the back of the shoulder, really hard. Lori sort of hollered, from

surprise, I guess, and also because it hurt. I could tell it had really hurt by the look on her face, and the way she rubbed at it.

"Ow! Darn you!" she hollered, and then, under her breath, "Jerk."

Brent went on his way then, out of the door without saying anything else.

"You ok?" I asked her.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"Does he act like that a lot?" I asked her then.

"All the time." She reached for another handful of popcorn, from the bowl that sat between us on the couch.

I considered, thinking. Brent was around twenty-one or so, so somewhere between Ford and Evan's ages. Closer to Ford's. I'd never heard

Lori say anything about Brent being nice to her, or doing anything for her in a good way.

Still, I asked the question.

"Is he ever nice to you?" I asked curiously.

"No. I can't remember even once when he was. He's either mean, or ignores me." Lori turned to face me. "Not all brothers are like yours, Harlie."

I knew that. I did. I couldn't imagine any of my brothers stealing from me, or smacking me like Brent had, just out of the

blue like that. For no reason. Even Guthrie, when we'd gotten into our very few shoving matches over the years, had never

hit me like that, just out of pure meanness.

"That's terrible," I said, with sympathy, thinking that I could never imagine Ford acting that way.

"I wouldn't mind having a brother or two like yours," Lori added.

"They can come in handy at times," I admitted.

After that, we went back to watching the movie, and didn't talk anymore about Brent, or about brothers in general. When the movie was

over, we hung around in Lori's bedroom for awhile, talking about school, and gossiping a little.

When it was nearly ten o'clock, I heard Daniel's voice from downstairs, and Lori's mom called upstairs to me.

After we'd said our goodbyes, and Daniel and I were headed home, he asked me if I'd had a good time.

"Yeah, I did. It was fun," I told him.

"That's good."

"How was your evening?" I asked.

"Just fine."

Out of curiousity I asked Daniel what he thought of the wild horses being captured, and sold for the purposes that Crane and Ford suspected.

"I think it's a damn shame. That's what I think," he said.

"So you don't think it's right, then? To catch them and sell them?" I persisted.

"Not if it's for the purpose of sellin' them to the glue factory."

Since I couldn't see his profile very well in the darkness of the truck cab, I had to judge his words by the tone of his

voice.

"What about catching them for another reason?" I asked then.

"What other reason?"

"To have them. To own them," I said. "Do you think that's alright?"

Daniel was quiet for a long moment. "I think if a person can provide a proper home, with veterinary care, and all, then yeah, I

think it's alright."

I couldn't explain why exactly, but I felt a little bit of disappointment in his answer. Which wasn't fair, really, because I had

asked him his opinion, after all. But the thought of those horses, running free across the grass, with their noses stretched out,

and their manes blowing in the wind, well, it just didn't seem right that they should be anything but free.

7


	47. Rodeo magazine as teethers

The next morning, when I came downstairs for breakfast, I was still barefoot, and carrying my socks and boots. I went to the

kitchen, which was already abuzz with activity and noise. There were two or three different conversations going on at the same time,

and I was half-listening to them all. It's a skill that I've acquired over the years, and it comes in handy with such a large family.

Guthrie was talking to Hannah about having Kristin come over for supper, and was saying something about Kristin having a rough

time at home again. I felt bad about that. I hadn't talked to Kristin for nearly a week.

"Of course she can come," Hannah was saying, in answer to Guthrie's request, as well as spooning baby food into

Isaac's little bird-like mouth at the same time.

"Good morning," she said to me, as I slipped into my own chair at the table, after setting my socks and boots over by the

door.

"Morning," I said.

"How was your evening at Lori's? Did you have fun?" she asked me.

"Yeah. We had fun."

"Good," she said, and smiled at me.

"Maybe Kristin can just spend the night, too," I suggested, entering into their conversation.

"That's fine," Hannah said. "If she wants to."

"She will," Guthrie said. "Anything to get out of that house for awhile."

I made a mental note to ask Guthrie what was going on with Kristin, as I put eggs from the platter onto my plate,

and poured milk into my glass.

Evan was asking where we were going to buy some hay at, and offering to go and get it.

"The Pearson's offered the best deal," Adam was saying. "If we take fifty bales, they'll shave some off the price."

"Okay. When do you want me to go?" Evan asked. "After breakfast?"

Adam looked down the table at Brian and Crane. "I don't know. Does that work for you guys?"

There was a general consensus that after breakfast was a good time to pick up the hay.

I'd wondered how long we were going to be able to keep all the cattle in that pasture out back. There were just

too many of them for the grass available there. Which was why hay was going to have to be begun to be fed already. Plus that were

no ponds in that pasture. So water had to be hauled to the tanks every day.

It was while I was finishing up my breakfast that Crane made a quiet announcement that later that afternoon he was

going into San Andreas to drop off some camera film, and then stop to talk to somebody at the sheriff's office there, about what

we'd seen the day before concerning the Mustangs. I made up my mind that I was going to do my upmost to go with him. I

wanted to talk to him some more about it all. When Crane said that, I looked in Adam's direction, and he didn't say anything, but he

didn't look entirely approving, either. He just nodded in acknowledgement.

While chores were being talked about and handed out, I waited, until I was assigned to helping fill the water tanks with Ford and Daniel.

It goes faster with three people. One to drive the truck. One to stand in the bed of the truck to turn on the water. And one to hop to the

ground to run the water hoses into the stock tanks to fill them.

I had my mind on the day ahead when I caught the end of a conversation between Crane and Daniel.

I heard Crane say something about Daniel needing to talk to Adam and Brian, and Daniel's return comment that

he planned on it. Then there was another comment from Daniel along the lines of something being a 'great opportunity', and

how 'the money would bolster things up'.

They were standing by the back door, talking, and I'd come back into the kitchen to refill Adam's coffee cup, and take

back to him in the living room, where he was still talking over the day with Brian and Evan. When Crane and Daniel

heard me near the coffee pot, Daniel sort of stuck his head around the corner.

When he saw it was me, he grinned at me, and he and Crane went on talking, though about more general things, and

not acting as though their conversation was a secret. General, as in how the tractor was leaking oil, and such.

I filed that away in my mind, too, curious as to what they'd been discussing.

Firstly, before I headed out with Ford and Daniel to take care of filling the water tanks, I caught up with Crane,

as he was pulling on his ball cap, and going down the front porch steps.

"Can I go with you today?" I asked him, trying to match him step for step across the yard, which isn't easy, with the long legs that

he has.

"I thought you were helping with the water," he said, misunderstanding.

"I am. I don't mean right now. I mean later on. When you go into San Andreas," I clarified.

Ford was honking the old truck's horn. "Come on, Har!" he was yelling to me, as Daniel loaded the water hoses into the back.

I waved to him, to show that I'd heard. Crane was still walking, heading towards the barn, and I stuck with him.

"Can I?" I asked again. "Go with you?"

By now, we'd reached the barn, and Crane began sorting thru the shelves beside the big door. The shelves are laden with all

sorts of things. Tools, half-used cans of paint, baling wire, all of that.

"I'm just going to run there real quick," Crane was saying, as he sifted thru the messy shelves.

The truck horn blasted again. For me.

"I know. But I want to go with you. Please, Crane."

He paused in his task, and looked down at me. "I wouldn't mind the company," he said.

I gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks," I said. "When are you leaving?"

"Around two or so, probably."

"Okay," I said, and ran to catch up with Ford and Daniel.

At first I drove the truck, while Ford stood in the bed of the truck, and Daniel worked the water hoses. After a couple of turns around

the pasture, and when we were nearing the last water tank, I stopped and hopped out.

"Can we switch?" I asked Ford.

"If you want," he said agreeably, and went to get behind the steering wheel.

I clambered up into the back of the truck, and, as Ford began moving forward slowly, thru the throng of cattle, I

asked Daniel, "What's your opportunity?"

Daniel, who was sitting on the tailgate, looked at me. "What?"

"Your opportunity. I heard you tell Crane it was a good opportunity."

"You know what they say about eavesdroppers, squirt," Daniel responded.

"I wasn't being an eavesdropper," I denied. "I just happened to come in when you were saying it."

"Uh huh," he said dryly. And that was all he said.

By now Ford had pulled up beside the last water tank, and had turned up the radio. Daniel hopped to the ground,

and I began twisting the handle to start the water running, while he adjusted the hoses.

"What is it, Daniel?" I persisted. I knew I shouldn't bug him, but I felt an odd sense of unease.

"It's a gig," he said.

"A music job?" I asked. "Well, that's good. Right?"

"I think it is."

"Where at?" I asked then.

By now the water was coming thru the hoses at a good rate, and Daniel half-sat on the tail gate again. I did the same, sitting on the other

side, the hoses between us.

Daniel turned to look at me, and it seemed to me as though he was measuring me up somehow.

It was then I knew. This job, or gig, or whatever it was, was not close by. That's why he'd only told Crane so far.

"Are you going back to Nashville?" I asked him, really quietly.

"I'm thinking about it," he said, just as quietly.

"You said you'd stay for the whole summer," I said, before I could restrain myself. "You promised."

"I know I did," he said, and made no excuses.

"But now you're not going to?" I persisted.

"Sometimes, something comes along-and it's big enough, and special enough, that you have to consider it. Even if

you've already made a promise."

"What's bigger than a promise?" I asked him, wondering if he could hear the challenge in my voice.

"Opening for Eddie Rabbitt."

For a long few moments, I was surprised into silence. That was big. Eddie Rabbitt had had number one hit songs in his career.

"Oh," I said. "Wow. That is huge."

The water was nearing the top of the tank, and Daniel stood up, going to adjust the hose a bit. "Get ready to turn it off," he told me.

I went to put my hand on the faucet, waiting.

A couple of minutes later, he said, "Okay," to me, and I turned the handle until the water was no longer trickling out.

When he'd put the hoses back into the bed of the truck, and reseated himself on the tail gate, he called out to Ford, who

turned the radio down, and stuck his head out of the driver's window.

"Ready?" Ford called.

"Ready!" Daniel hollered.

I sat down, too, quickly, on the place I'd been sitting at, on the opposite end of the tail gate.

"That's good," I said, as we bounced along thru the pasture. "I see what you mean about it being a good opportunity."

Daniel regarded me, his dark eyes intent.

"I haven't talked to Adam about it yet," he said. "Or Brian. So-"

"I won't say anything," I told him.

After a moment, I asked, "When would you go?"

"Two weeks."

"Oh," I said, and suddenly, even though he was right there beside me, not more than two feet separating us, I felt

alone, and sort of bereft.

When we were out of the pasture, and Daniel had opened, and then reclosed the gate, I got off the tailgate, dusting

off the seat of my jeans. Ford drove on around us, intent on parking the truck, and that left Daniel and I walking together.

He reached down to squeeze my hand. "I don't like breaking a promise," he said. "I don't want you to think that I do."

"I don't think that," I told him. "I'm not a baby, Daniel. I understand that things happen, and priorities have to

be changed."

He squeezed my hand again, and then let it go.

7

I was quiet at lunchtime, my thoughts all over the place. I felt Daniel watching me a couple of times, from

his spot across the table.

After lunch, I took Isaac outside to pull him around in the old wagon that had belonged to Guthrie and I when we were

little. I wrapped a sheet around the baby on all sides, so he would have some cushion and also to insure that he didn't topple

out of the wagon. I pulled him down the driveway, and as I usually did, talked to him the entire way down and back. Just as

though he could understand everything that I was saying.

I went to the mailbox, opening it, not expecting the mail to have been delivered yet. But it had. I took out the stack, sifting thru

it, curiously. There were several bills. One from the rural water association, one for the telephone, and another that looked

as though it was from an insurance company. Aside from that, there was a rodeo magazine, addressed to Evan, and a letter

in a light purple envelope, addressed to Daniel. No return address. I had my suspicions about that one. Some groupie girl, I figured.

There was another letter, this one addressed to me. No return address on mine, either.

"Look, Isaac," I said, crouching beside the wagon, and beginning to open my envelope. The baby grabbed at the stack of mail,

and since I figured the bills were most important, and couldn't be ripped up, I let him hold Evan's magazine. He happily began

to gum and chew at the corner of the pages.

The last time I'd gotten anything in the mail, it had been from Seth. I hoped that wasn't the case this time.

And it wasn't. When I opened the sheet of stationary, a whiff of familiar perfume filtered out. And then I began to

read,

"My Darling Harlie,

I hope you are doing well, and having an enjoyable summer. I find myself missing your company,

and think of you often. Please use the enclosed to buy yourself something.

Aunt Karissa"

I peered into the envelope again, and there was a fifty dollar bill, folded in half. I stood up, and just stayed in that

spot for a long few minutes, thinking.

I'd really never figured to hear from Karissa again. At least not for a good long while. It had been, I considered, about three

months or so since the court case.

I tucked the letter and the money back into the envelope, and started back up the driveway, still talking to Isaac.

"What do you think about that, huh, baby?" I asked him. "Sending me money, and acting as though nothing happened?"

Isaac continued to gum Evan's magazine in reply.

I'd have to tell Adam. I knew I had to. Still, there was so much going on. Money was tight. We'd lost cattle. Maybe telling him about it

could wait a while.

I stopped myself right then. That was how I'd gotten into trouble before. Convincing myself that it would be better to put it off, to wait to talk to Adam and Brian about her first coming around. I couldn't do that again. I tucked my envelope into my back pocket of my jeans.

Evan was coming out of the house, as I was gathering Isaac up to carry him.

"Mail here already?" he asked me, munching on an apple, and holding the door open for me.

"Uh huh. You got a magazine," I said, and gently tugged the magazine from Isaac's little hands. "Here."

Evan took the magazine from me, giving me a look that was meant to scald, to reprimand, I knew.

"Of course you gave him my magazine to chew on," he said ruefully, holding it out in front of him.

"It's alright," I said, and brushed at the wet spot on the corner of the magazine. "Put it in the sun on the porch, and it will be

good as new."

"Uh huh," he said dryly, and I couldn't suppress the giggle that escaped.

"Glad you find it so funny," he said.

"I'm sorry, Ev," I said, but I couldn't help another snicker of amusement.

I went to take Isaac inside, laying him on the couch to change his diaper and put on a clean onesie, from the basket of

clothes that was setting on the end of the couch, waiting to be folded.

After that, I sat and held him on my lap, jiggling him up and down, and blowing raspberries on his stomach, making him

laugh. People don't really think babies can laugh, but Isaac can. He can actually laugh out loud.

Crane came down the stairs, buttoning up a clean shirt. "I'm going to be ready to go in about twenty minutes," he told me. "Still

going with me?"

"Yes!" I said. "Do you know where Hannah is?"

"Out in the garden, the last I saw."

Once Crane had gone, I took Isaac to the kitchen, where I managed to make him a bottle, while still holding him. It wasn't easy,

because he kept grabbing for things. I had an admiration for Hannah, who made it appear so easy.

"No, no, little man," I said, as Isaac wrapped his fingers around my headband, pulling it down.

Trying to balance the baby, and keep his fingers from intertwining any tighter in my hair, plus hold the bottle, had me wishing

for another pair of hands.

"Need some help?" Adam spoke from behind me, and I turned to look at him. He looked amused.

"I could use some help for sure," I said.

"Here," Adam said, and loosened Isaac's fingers from my hair. Isaac, upon seeing his daddy, began to reach out for Adam.

Adam took the baby from me, and I pushed my headband back into place, and shook the bottle, mixing the formula.

"I'm going with Crane to San Andreas in a little while," I said.

Adam reached out to take the bottle. "Alright," he said.

As he leaned Isaac back, and the baby began to drink from his bottle, I asked, in a casual way, "Can I talk to you later?"

Adam regarded me seriously. "Sure. Do you want to talk now?"

I thought for a moment. When I told Adam about the letter from Karissa and the money she'd sent, I didn't want to have to rush

thru it. If I told him now, and it got all involved, and in-depth, I might have to forego my trip to San Andreas with Crane. And I didn't

want to do that.

"No," I said. "Later is okay. After supper?"

"Okay," he said, in agreement.

7


	48. Room of McFaddens

Crane and I took Daniel's truck to San Andreas. It's not a very long trip at all. Crane isn't one that listens to the radio when he drives.

He more seems to enjoy the quiet. Or talking during a drive.

I asked him about the pictures that he'd taken of the men herding the Mustangs.

"I don't know how good they are. I thought I'd get them developed at the one-hour photo, and take a look, before

going to the sheriff's office," he told me.

"Oh." I turned so that I was more sideways in the seat, facing him. "Guthrie said something yesterday. About how

they were weeding some of the horses out. Were they?"

"Yeah. They were."

"Why would they do that?" I asked, not understanding. "I mean, if they're planning to sell them to factories, like you think they are,

wouldn't they want them all? So they'd make more money?"

"They were likely holding some of them back. Thinking they have a way to make more on those," Crane said.

"How?" I asked.

"Selling them to individuals, maybe. Or for rodeo stock."

I thought about that for a couple of moments. Crane, too, seemed to retreat into his own thoughts.

"Crane?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think any way of taking a Mustang is wrong? Even if it's to keep it, to own it?"

"I don't think you can ever really own something that was born free," Crane said, and at that moment, I felt as

though I was a puzzle piece that had found its match.

"That's how I feel, too," I said, thinking how very special of a person that he was.

7

We made a stop at the drugstore in San Andreas, where they have a one-hour photo shop. Crane took in the film, and

dropped it off, and when we came back out onto the sidewalk in the sunshine, he stood there, as though thinking.

"So," he said, "We have at least an hour. What do you want to do?"

I shrugged. "Whatever you want," I said.

"Well. That's easy," he said. "The library. I want to do some research."

Once at the library, which was by far larger than our small one in Murphys, Crane proceeded to walk the

rows of books, until he'd gathered up two large ones. He carried them to a nearby table, and sat down.

I sat down next to him as he began flipping thru the books, which looked to me to be some sort of law books.

"What are you looking for?" I said, low, in a library-appropriate voice.

Crane pushed one of the large brown volumes towards me. "Find anything you can on the 1971 Wild and Free Act," he

said.

"What's that?" I asked, while I began to turn the pages to the back where the index was.

"A federal law that prevents the capture of wild horses," he said, and began to read in his own book.

When I found something about what he'd told me, it was only a scant few paragraphs. I read it, but it only listed

the basics really, such as when the law was put into effect and what the purpose of it was. I leaned over to

read along with him, from the book he had, and the article there was much more detailed concerning the Wild and Free Roaming Horses and Burros Act

of 1971.

When he paused, pushing his glasses up on top of his head, I said, "There was only a few paragraphs in this other book."

"That's alright," he said, tapping the pages he'd been reading, and looking around the library. "I'm going to see

if they can make a copy for me."

He took the book and stood up, going in search of the librarian, after telling me to put the other book away.

As we were leaving the library a few minutes later, Crane was carrying copies in his hand, that told about the 1971 law.

Back in the truck again, Crane drove to the drugstore. While he went inside to check on the pictures that he'd taken, I stayed

in the truck, reading over the copied article.

It was fascinating. So many wild horses were being slaughtered before that, and the law was passed into effect in 1971. The Act

provided specific protection to all unbranded and unclaimed horses and burros on public land of the United States. It made it a crime

for anyone to harass or kill these animals.

I'd read most of it by the time Crane came back out. He got in and opened the package of pictures.

As he looked at each one, he then passed it over to me. With the telephoto lens on his camera, he'd managed to

get what I thought were some good shots. It brought the men into clarity, though it was still not possible to

make out their faces entirely. He'd also gotten some pictures of the helicopter.

"They're good," I said, as he started the engine. I stacked the pictures neatly and put them back into the envelope.

"They're not great," he denied. "But they're better than nothing."

"What now?" I asked.

"I'm going to talk to a deputy."

"They should be able to do something now for sure," I said. "This would explain so much. The trailer tire tracks, and

all of that. So they can finally get off their lazy behinds and do something about this case!"

"Whoa there, tiger," Crane said. "We'll see what they say."

When we'd driven the short distance to the sheriff's office, I had my hand on the door handle, ready to hop out, when

Crane put a hand on my knee.

I paused, looking at him.

"We're going in, and I'm going to talk to Hal, or one of his guys. But we're not going in there to go all 'Rocky Balboa'

on anybody. So no mouth. Understand?"

"Yes," I said. I could tell he meant it.

Once inside, Crane spoke to the dispatcher, or whatever she was, at the front desk, and asked to speak to Hal, the sheriff,

or one of the deputies. He mentioned two names which I assumed were the men who had come out to our house on

the occasions of our cattle being shot, and to measure the tire tracks.

We sat there for what seemed like a really long time. I was growing more impatient by the moment. Crane, however,

showed no such impatience. He was as still, and calm-appearing as could be.

"They shouldn't make people wait like this," I said, in protest. I said it low, and quietly, and I knew the woman

behind the desk didn't hear me. But Crane still frowned at me in disapproval.

"Want to wait outside?" he asked me, and it wasn't really a question of choice, but more of a warning.

I shook my head at him.

"Then quit," he ordered.

So I sat back, and kept my thoughts and observations about the Calavaras County Sheriff's Department to myself. And, of course,

a deputy did finally appear at one of the inside doors, and waved us back into the inner part of the offices. I'd never been

this far inside the department, and I was looking all around, finding it interesting. There were all these small rooms, and I wondered

if those were their "interrogation rooms".

Finally, we were led down a narrow hallway, and into an office. I recognized the sheriff, Hal, as he stood up from behind the desk,

and leaned across to shake Crane's hand.

"How are you doing, Crane?" he said in greeting.

"Doing alright," Crane said in response.

"How are you, Harlie?" he asked me next.

"Fine, thanks," I said politely. I wondered that he could remember my name that way, but then figured it was because

'Harlie' is such an unusual name for a girl, and that makes it stick in people's minds.

"What can I do for you?" Hal asked, waving at Crane and I to take a seat.

Crane laid the packet of pictures on the desk, and sat down, saying, "I wanted you to have a look at these."

I sat down, too, as the sheriff did the same, opening the package, sifting thru the photos. He took his time, giving each

one what seemed to be a careful once-over.

After that he asked where they'd been taken at, and when, and all of that, and he and Crane discussed the specifics.

"Interesting," Hal said, and I felt a flash of irritation.

Interesting? Really? Beautiful wild horses were being chased down by men and helicopters, to be likely turned into glue

or dog food, and he thought it was 'interesting'?

Then he asked some more questions, about the helicopter, and the number of men we'd seen.

"Is it alright that I keep these?" he asked Crane, holding up the stack of pictures.

"Sure. Absolutely," Crane said.

The conversation was basically over by now, with the sheriff saying that the pictures would be helpful, and

they would continue to focus on the investigation, to see if all the bad things that had happened might be connected to

the wild horse roundup.

We walked outside, into the bright sun, and down the concrete steps in front. As I came around to my side of the truck to get in,

I said, "He's not a fan of the Mustangs."

Crane started the engine, and then sat back in the seat a little, not putting the truck in gear.

"The sheriff, I mean," I added, thinking he maybe hadn't heard me. "He doesn't have sympathy for the horses."

"What makes you say that?" Crane asked, turning to look at me.

"Because." I searched for the right words to express what I was feeling. "Because he was-" I hesitated again, "He was

so cavalier about it. He had no compassion."

"That doesn't mean he can't do his job in the right way. He's a professional," Crane said.

I realized Crane hadn't said that he thought I was wrong, about my observation of the sheriff's demeanor. He must feel the same as

I did.

7

It was suppertime by the time we pulled into the driveway at home, and the rest of the family was already assembled at

the table. It was extra crowded, because, besides Kristin being there, squeezed into a chair between Guthrie and my spot, Nancy

was there to eat as well.

There was a lot of talking, and talking over, and I could tell that Kristin was feeling sort of down. Though she became more

animated as the time passed, which is how she usually responds after being around our family for a while.

I asked her, really low, if she was alright, and she nodded, saying only, "We can talk later tonight, right?"

I nodded in agreement, and dived into eating my spaghetti.

I was on dishwashing duty, along with Ford. And Nancy pitched in, too, carrying the dishes over to the sink, and

picking up an extra dishtowel to dry along with me, as Ford washed.

"Where did Evan go?" I asked her.

"I don't know. He's been acting strange every since I got here," Nancy said.

"As in weird strange?" I asked.

When Nancy nodded, Ford said, "How can you tell? That's how he always acts," and then laughed.

I laughed too, but Nancy didn't. She only said, with her forehead all lined in worry, "I hope everything's alright with him. He

wouldn't really say when I asked him about it."

"Oh, he's fine," I said, in a breezy way. I proceeded to tell the two of them how Isaac had chewed Evan's rodeo

magazine earlier in the day. That did make Nancy laugh, and Ford, too. We were still laughing about it when Evan came down

the back stairs. He'd changed to a clean shirt, and, upon closer inspection, I saw that it was actually one of the two shirts

that he keeps for church. And he was wearing his best pair of boots.

Ford, who'd finished washing the dishes, was turned around, drying his hands, and leaning against the counter. He gave

a whistle at Evan's appearance.

"Don't you look pretty," he teased. And then Ford gave an exaggerated sniff. "And you smell real pretty, too."

"Shut up, Ford," Evan said, mildly, with no real malice in his tone.

"You look great," Nancy said, laying her dishtowel down and stepping over to Evan. "What's up?"

"I thought I might take you out somewhere special tonight," Evan said.

I was turned now too, standing beside Ford, and listening to their exchange with interest.

"Like where?" Nancy asked.

"Anywhere you want to go," Evan said recklessly, and Nancy, in her typical blunt manner, said,

"Why? Is it a special occasion that I forgot about, or something?"

"Can't a guy take his girl somewhere nice, without having to have a special reason?" Evan countered.

Nancy eyed him, still looking a little skeptical. "Yes. He can."

"Well, alright then," Evan said, and turned to Ford and I. "Are you two about done with those dishes?"

"We're done," Ford said. "Why?"

But Evan only shook his head, and took Nancy's hand, pulling her toward the living room. Nancy looked back

at Ford and I, lifting her shoulders in a puzzled way, as if she too, wondered what had gotten into Evan.

Ford and I exchanged a glance, and then we both followed along, to the living room. That room was abuzz with

noise, and there was somebody sitting in every spot available.

Evan stopped on the edge of the circle of couches and chairs. "Where's Brian?" he demanded, of nobody in particular.

"He went upstairs for a minute," Clare said.

Evan nodded in response, and stood there, still holding onto Nancy's hand.

"So," Nancy said, "Are we going out? Because if we are, I need to go home and change into something nicer than

my work outfit," and she gestured to her shirt that had the name of the feed store, with her name embroidered

underneath.

"After awhile," Evan said.

"Well, let's sit down then," Nancy told him, pointing to the sofa pillows that had been tossed onto the floor beside

the couch.

"In a minute," Evan said, and Nancy looked at him as though he'd gone crazy.

"What in the world is the matter with you, Evan?" she demanded.

"Hurry up, Brian," Evan said, as Brian came down the stairs, and headed back over to sit beside Clare.

"What do I have to hurry up for?" Brian asked, pausing in his walking.

"Sit down, sit down," Evan said, impatiently, and Brian raised his eyebrows and then sat down.

By now, pretty much everybody in the room was watching Evan, the way he was acting, and all the other conversations had ceased.

"You're as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof," Brian accused him.

"Yeah, Ev, what's up?" Guthrie piped up.

Evan gave an eye-sweep around the room, and apparently satisfied that everybody was present, and accounted for, he let go of Nancy's hand,

and then, in front of an entire room full of McFaddens, he got down on one knee.

He pulled a small box from his shirt pocket, and then, followed by hoots and hollers, whistles and cat-calls, from everybody in the room,

he asked Nancy to marry him.

7


	49. Can I Have This Dance?

The living room, after Evan's attention-grabbing proposal, was one giant mass of talking, and laughing, and hugging. The noise level was

over the top.

Nancy, who had looked properly surprised, had then pressed a hand to her mouth, just like girls do in the movies, when someone proposes

to them.

There was an ear-piercing whistle, as Brian placed his pinky fingers in his mouth, and everybody quieted somewhat.

"Hold on," he said. "She hasn't answered yet, has she, Ev?"

Evan, who'd gotten to his feet, now looked at Nancy, as if he'd just realized that as well.

"Well?" he asked, looking somewhere between hopeful and happy. "What do you say?"

"I say yes," Nancy said, clearly, and Evan broke into a huge grin.

He slid the ring onto her left ring finger, and then Nancy flung her arms around him. Family began to crowd forward, each of us

intent on giving our love and congratulations. Back-slapping and more hugging began, all while Nancy kept one hand thru the crook of

Evan's arm.

When it was time, I hugged Nancy, and she leaned back to give me a dazzling smile. "Sisters for real, wild child," she said.

"I'm so happy for you," I told her. "Both of you."

I watched as Adam took his turn, giving Nancy a quick hug, and then he gave a much longer hug to Evan, and I could tell he was

saying something low, that only Evan would be able to hear.

"This calls for a celebration," Daniel said, speaking over the noise. "We should have some champagne!"

Even I knew that there would be no champagne to be found in our house. My brothers are definitely much more of the

beer type.

"We don't need any champagne," Nancy said, still with the biggest smile on her face. She was practically radiating joy.

"Beer, then," Daniel said. "Help me, Ford."

The two of them scurried off toward the kitchen, while Hannah and Clare came to take a closer look at Nancy's

engagement ring. It was a beautiful ring. Simple. But Nancy kept looking at it in admiration, and then squeezing Evan's

arm, so I knew she loved it.

When the boys brought back two six-packs of beer, and a six-pack of Coca-Cola, we all toasted the engagement. It turned into

a really awesome evening, just everybody hanging out, and eventually Ford sat down at the piano, playing soft country love

songs.

"Come sit with me, Har," he encouraged, and when I went to sit beside him on the piano bench, he began to play what

I recognized as Anne Murray's song, 'Can I Have This Dance for the Rest of My Life?'.

After I'd listened for a few minutes, I tried to join in with Ford on the song. A couple of times I paused, not able to

follow. But then when I looked at Ford, embarrassed, he leaned closer, and said quietly, "Forget about everybody else. Focus on the

music. Just play."

And so I tried to do that. I still didn't think I did that great, but Ford, when we were done, told me I'd done fine.

And Nancy came over and hugged Ford and said it was terrific.

"Yeah. It was good," Evan said. He looked nearly as beamingly happy as Nancy. Since I hadn't actually

congratulated him as yet, I stood up from the bench, and said, "I'm happy for you, Ev."

Evan grinned. "Thanks," he said, giving me a sideways hug.

Eventually, things settled down to be a good bit quieter. Evan and Nancy left, to go out on the promised evening date.

Daniel and Crane went out onto the front porch, and sat, no porch light on, in the dark, picking out chords

on their guitars. Guthrie and Kristin went outside to the porch, as well, sitting on the top step to listen.

Brian and Clare were sitting on the couch together, and Hannah went upstairs to rock Isaac. I wasn't certain just

where Ford had gotten to. That left Adam unaccounted for, and that was who I needed to see. So I went in search of

him, first making sure that he hadn't gone upstairs to go to bed. He hadn't, so I went thru to the kitchen, and felt

the coffee pot with my fingers. It had been turned off, but it was still warm. Which meant that he likely wasn't too long gone, or too

far away.

I went out the back door, not letting the screen door slam, and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Warrior, who'd been

lying beside the door, got to his feet, and greeted me with a wag of his tail.

I rubbed his head, and then, with the pole light from the barn illuminating the trees in the back yard, I saw Adam. He was

leaning against a tree in the orchard, close to where the two old metal chairs sit at.

I walked across the yard, the grass cool on my bare feet. I came up quietly, touching the tree that he leaned against with

my fingers.

"Hi," I said, softly.

"Hi." His voice was just as quiet.

I leaned against the other side of the tree. "It's cool, isn't it? About Evan and Nancy?"

"Very cool," he said in agreement.

I wondered what it was that Adam had said so quietly to Evan earlier in the evening. But I knew it was none

of my business, anyway. I did know that Adam liked Nancy. I'd heard him say once before that she had a 'good head on

her shoulders'. That's high praise from Adam.

"We McFaddens just keep growing," I said then.

"That we do."

After a couple of moments of silence, he said, "It's late, isn't it? You should be getting to bed."

"It's a little after ten."

"Tell Kristin to go to bed, too, when you head up," he said.

"Alright." I left the side of the tree and walked a few steps out, looking toward the giant moon in the sky. I turned back to

face him. I could make out his profile by the yard light, but just barely.

"I got a letter today in the mail," I said.

He didn't say anything, but I could tell he was looking at me, waiting for me to say more.

"It was from Karissa," I said, getting directly to the point. No sense in dragging it out.

For a very, very long few moments, he said nothing. I thought he might say something like 'you're kidding', or

something like that. But he didn't.

"What'd she say?" he asked.

"That she thinks about me. That she hopes I'm having a good summer. That she misses me," I relayed.

"Hmm," he said.

"I was surprised," I said.

"Nothing she does surprises me," Adam said. He didn't sound particularly bothered or upset. "I don't want you to answer

the letter," he said then.

"There was no return address on the envelope," I told him. And then, realizing that it sounded as though I would have wanted to answer the

letter, I added quickly, "I wouldn't want to answer. I just meant that I wasn't sure where she sent it from-"

"I know what you meant," Adam said. His tone was still the same. Calm. Mellow. "I'm glad you told me."

"Okay," I said, relieved that he understood what I'd been trying to say. Still, I knew he thought I was at the end of what

I'd needed to tell him. I took a couple of steps closer to him, so I could see his face a bit better.

"She put some money in there, too," I told him. "She said to buy something that I wanted."

"She never quits," he said. He said it so quietly, so low, that I nearly didn't hear the words. I heard him sigh.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked him. "Since I don't know where to send it to return it?"

"Yeah. That does present a problem," he said.

"I could try to call the last phone number that I had for her," I suggested. "If she still answers at that number, I

could ask for her mailing address, and return the money."

"No," Adam said, sounding decisive. "I don't want you to try calling her. That might set things into motion that we

don't want."

"Okay," I said, in agreement, knowing that what he meant was that Karissa might take a phone call as encouragement, and start

trying to contact me again.

"How much money was it?" he asked.

"Fifty dollars."

"Hmm," he said, sounding thoughtful. "I suppose you could spend the money. Buy yourself somethin', like she suggested."

I was totally surprised by that comment. Still, I feel as though I know Adam very well, and I could also hear something

in his tone. I didn't want him to feel as though what he and the others were able to provide for me wasn't enough.

"I don't really need anything," I said, trying to sound casual.

Adam chuckled a bit. "You must be the only teenage girl in the entire state that would claim not to need anything."

"Well, I don't," I said. "I mean it."

"I know you do." He reached out, and put a hand on the back of my neck. "You're a rare gem, sugar plum."

I stepped on in, and wrapped my arms around his waist. "I have an idea," I said. "I could put it in the bank, in my savings

account. And that way, it's there in case she wants it back or something. She's majorly fruit loops, you know. She might demand it back sometime."

"Harlie Marie," he said, but not in an irritated way. Just softly.

"What?" I asked. "You don't think that's a good idea?"

"I actually think it's a great idea."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yep."

"Okay. That's what I'll do then," I said.

Adam brushed my hair away from my face. "I'm glad you told me about getting the letter. And about the money." he said.

"I want to keep my promise that I made to you."

"I appreciate it," Adam said. "Thank you."

We were quiet for a bit after that, just looking at the stars, until Adam finally said he was nearly falling asleep while

standing up, and we headed inside.

7

Guthrie and Kristin still weren't inside, and I was going to go and tell Kristin that Adam had said for her to come

inside, like he'd told me to do.

Before I could, though, he'd stepped outside onto the front porch, listening to Crane and Daniel play their music. I was close

behind him, and I heard him tell Kristin himself.

After I'd done my shot, I went on upstairs, knowing Kristin would be a few more minutes longer, saying her goodnights to Guthrie.

I went to the bathroom, smearing Noxema on my face, and then washing it off. I love the feeling that my skin gets after I

use Noxema. And the smell of it. If I could, I'd use it as perfume.

By the time I was done with my face and brushing my teeth, and changing to my pajamas, Kristin was already in my bedroom,

sitting on the rollaway cot, and pulling on some socks.

"I brought us up some potato chips to snack on," she told me, holding up the bag. "Crane told me I could."

"Awesome," I said.

I curled up, cross-legged on my bed, and Kristin sat at the other end, also cross-legged. As we shared the bag of chips,

I began by asking her if she'd had a good time that evening.

"Oh, sure," Kristin said, her face immediately lighting up. "I always have a good time when I'm here. I'd rather be

here than anywhere else that I can think of."

She must have been able to read my thoughts, because she said, "It's not just because Guthrie is here. I mean, of course that's

part of it. But I always feel different when I'm here."

"Different, how?" I asked.

"Well," she considered. "I feel included in things. Not left out. And-everybody treats me as though they like having me

here."

"They do," I assured her. "Everybody likes you."

"No drunken rages here, either," she said, brushing her hands against her leg.

"Your mom let Frank come back?" That was all that I could figure that she meant.

"Well, not officially," Kristin said, making quotation marks in the air. "But he's there all the time. So, yeah, pretty much."

"I'm sorry," I said.

Kristin shrugged. "Nothing that I can do about it," she said, sounding resigned.

"Why does your mom do this?" I asked. "I mean, why does she put you, and herself, thru it?"

"Because she loves him, is what she says. To me, that's not love."

I felt so bad for Kristin. It was obvious how much she was hurting over all of it.

"Maybe you could stay here for awhile," I suggested.

"Do you think they'd agree?" she asked, so quickly that I knew she'd been hoping for it herself.

"I think they would," I said.

"That's what Guthrie said, too," she said.

"Well, there you go then," I said, sounding positive.

After that, we talked about other things. One of the subjects being, would we rather be proposed to in front

of other people, like Evan had done, or in a private setting.

Kristin thought it was romantic the way that Evan had done it, though she pointed out that it would be embarrassing if

a girl wanted to say 'no', but everyone in the room was watching.

I agreed, but added that I thought Evan had to have been nearly positive that Nancy would say 'yes', or he

never would have done it the way that he had.

7

The next morning when I woke up, Kristin was already gone, the cot neatly made up, and pushed against the wall,

so that it was easier to walk thru the room.

I got dressed, and went out to the hallway, nearly bumping into Ford.

"Hey. Good morning," he greeted me.

"Morning," I returned.

As we went down the stairs, Ford said, "I'm driving to Davis sometime this week. Would you want to go with me?"

"Sure. What are you going to do there?"

"I'm going to SC to talk to a counselor," Ford said.

"Oh," I said, stopping to regard him with interest, and anticipation. "Are you thinking of switching to SC?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Ohhh," I said, tugging on his arm in excitement. "That's great!"

"Well, I'm only thinking about it," he said. "I'll talk to Adam and Brian, and see what day works out best for me

to be gone this week."

"Can I go visit the animal clinic while we're there?" I asked. "Like I did when Crane took me?"

"I figured you were going to ask that," Ford said. "Yeah, its alright with me."

As we reached the foot of the stairs, we had to step around Guthrie and Crane. They were ensconced in a corner,

talking in low tones, about something that looked to be very serious, judging by Guthrie's expression, and the way that

Crane stood, with his arms crossed.

"Looks like a major powwow," Ford said, in a low tone, as we walked on toward the kitchen together.

"I think it's about Kristin," I whispered back.

"What about Kristin?" he asked.

"She wants to stay here for awhile," I said.

"Again? What happened?"

"Frank's back," I said, and Ford raised an eyebrow, in concern, and we stopped talking, because we were

walking into the kitchen.

A platter of eggs was already on the table, and Brian was standing at the stove, still flipping pancakes.

"We need more syrup," Daniel said, holding the syrup bottle upside down, watching as the remaining drops

drizzled out.

"We don't have any more syrup," Hannah announced, from where she putting Isaac into his high chair.

Brian reached into a cabinet, and took down a jar of molasses, and set it on the table with a flourish.

"There you go. Nothin' better than molasses on pancakes," he said.

I wrinkled my nose, thinking that I'd rather eat a pancake plain, than put that black molasses on it.

"Jelly?" I suggested, and went to grab the apple and the pear jelly from the refrigerator. I slid into my chair,

and when I forked a pancake, I spread pear jelly all over it.

Brian, who'd finished cooking, set a plate piled high with pancakes in the center of the table, before heading around to his

own chair. "You should try the molasses, peach," he told me.

"No, thank you," I said, very definitely.

"I'll try it," Kristin spoke up. She let the molasses drip onto her pancakes, and took a bite.

Looking across Guthrie and Clare, to where Brian was watching in expectation, she said, "Umm, good."

"Good girl," Brian said, in approval. "Pass it down this way."

"I think molasses has a weird smell," I volunteered.

"Oh, it does not," Evan said, from his spot across the table.

"It does," I insisted. "It smells like a-a weed, or something."

"Oh, Harlie," Hannah said, looking amused.

After a few minutes, the conversation turned to Evan's wedding proposal.

"When are you thinking of getting married?" Hannah asked Evan. "Or have the two of you decided that?"

Evan gave a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't think it's set in stone yet. Nancy said something about in the Fall sometime."

"What part of the Fall?" Hannah asked, stopping in her eating, to look at Evan.

"I don't know," Evan said, carelessly, in typical guy fashion.

"Hannah exchanged a look with Clare, who obviously understood, because Clare looked at Evan and

said, "Like September? Or October? Early fall or late fall?"

Again, Evan looked at them, as if puzzled. "Not sure."

"Well, we need to find out," Hannah said. "If it's September, that's only a few weeks away-"

"Hannah, that's two months," Adam spoke from his end of the table.

"Men don't understand anything about weddings," Hannah said, spooning more baby food into Isaac's waiting

mouth.

"Nope. Nothing," Clare said, in agreement.

"I understand plenty," Brian said.

"Oh, is that so?" Clare asked him, tilting her head to look up at him. "What do you understand about weddings?"

"I understand they're a heck of a lot of hard work to get ready for-" Brian said, as Clare raised her eyebrows at him.

"That's exactly my point," Hannah said. "We have a lot to do to get ready if it's going to be soon."

"A lot of hard work, huh?" Clare said, nudging Brian in the ribs.

Brian grinned, and kissed her on the forehead. "But worth every bit of it, darlin'. Every bit."

7


	50. Fence posts

The cows that had been brought down from the roundup, and far too many of them for the pasture they were in, had to

be moved. That was the topic of conversation, after breakfast was finished, and my brothers began to grab their hats to go

outside.

"Maybe we could rent some pasture, from the McCoy's?" Guthrie suggested, naming our nearest neighbor.

The others exchanged glances and then Crane said, "It's a good idea, Guth, but it's not what we can do right now."

I looked at Guthrie, and he looked at me. I raised my shoulders in a shrug to suggest that I didn't understand, either.

Finally, the decision was made to move half of the cattle, and put them in the pasture where the bull and the other cattle were.

"Wasn't the whole point to have them closer to home, though?" Ford asked.

"It was," Adam said. "Let's stretch some wire around the back side of the barn, with access to the pond. Then we move

about twenty head over there for right now."

"That's gonna take some time," Guthrie grumbled.

"Which is why we start now," Brian told him, putting a hand on the back of Guthrie's neck. "Come on."

Kristin offered to stay at the house, helping with the dishes and the laundry. I was hoping I wouldn't be appointed

to the housework duty. I wanted to be outside.

"Do you have to get to work?" Adam was asking Kristin. "Somebody need to run you to Angels Camp?"

I knew then that Adam thought Kristin was still working at the video store in Angels Camp. And he also

didn't know that she wanted to stay again overnight. For that night. And the next. And the next.

"No," Kristin said, quietly.

"No, what?" Adam asked, in typical 'Adam-fashion', though he didn't say it unkindly. "No, you don't have work, or no, you don't need a ride?"

"No to both," Kristin told him.

"Alright," Adam said, and began to get ready to head out the door. I saw Kristin take a deep breath, and I knew she wanted

to ask Adam outright if she could stay for a while with us. But, in the usual fashion of a hectic morning, they were all

going out the door, and talking, and I could tell she lost her nerve, closing her mouth.

"Don't worry about it," I whispered to her.

"Should I ask Hannah?" she whispered back.

I considered that for a moment. Hannah would be a likely source of support, and understanding in this situation. Still, she

wouldn't make the final decision. That would come from my brothers.

"Talk to her," I advised. "Tell her what's going on, and all that. Don't ask her anything. But then she'll know about it

already, and she might talk to Adam."

Kristin nodded, and when somebody hollered from the porch for me, I went outside.

"Help fill the water tanks again," Brian told me.

"Okay," I said agreeably, and waited for him to tell me who was going to help me.

"Are the keys in the truck?" I asked.

"You'll have to check," he said, and I ran across the yard to where the truck was parked, near the water hydrant. The keys were

in the ignition already, and I started the motor.

I hopped into the driver's seat, and Crane followed after a few minutes, coming around to the other side to get in.

"Who else?" I asked, waiting for the third-place person for the job.

"It's you and me, kid," he said.

I pulled out a little too fast, squealing the tires of the truck.

"Eeeasy," Crane said, putting a hand on the roof of the cab, as if to steady himself. "The old truck can't take

that kind of abuse."

"Sorry," I said, and couldn't resist a laugh.

Crane was the one who got out to open the gate, ushering the cattle back, and then closing it again. When he was

back in the cab, I began to drive really slowly thru the throng of cattle.

"Stop here," Crane told me. "I'm going to feed some range cubes."

So I braked to a stop. I had to hold down really hard with my foot. The brakes were getting worn down.

Crane sprinkled some range cubes, walking amongst the cattle, until that sack was emptied out. He tore open a second sack

and poured out about half of that one.

"Pull on over to the first tank," he told me, and so I drove on, to the first tank in the half-circle of the pasture.

I parked, and got out to climb up into the back, ready to turn on the water. When Crane came over, he made sure the

water hoses were secure, and told me to start the water.

Once it was running into the tank, I sat down on the tail gate, while he stood beside the tank.

"Kristin wants to stay around for awhile, huh?" he said. It wasn't really a question, the way that he said it. So I knew

that was what Guthrie had been talking to him about earlier that morning.

"Yeah. She does," I said.

When he said nothing more, I asked, "Can she?"

"It's not up to just me."

"I know. But Guthrie talked to you first," I pointed out. "Because you understand."

"I'm not the only one who understands," he reminded me.

"I know that." I studied his tanned face. "But, sometimes you're more reachable."

Crane gave me a raised eyebrow look. "Reachable, huh?"

"Sometimes."

Crane looked sympathetic, thoughtful. "We'll see what her mom has to say about it," he said.

"How come?" I demanded.

"How come what?" he asked, reaching down to straighten the hose.

"If her mom is stupid enough to let freaky Frank back into the house again, then why does her opinion even

matter? She doesn't deserve to even have an opinion."

I thought my statement made a valid point, but Crane's swift look gave me a jolt. It was the look he reserves

for when he is most disappointed.

"What?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

Instead of answering right away, he said, "Turn off the water."

I stood up, and went to twist the water handle until it stopped. After Crane had shoved the hoses back into the truck bed, he

went around as if to get into the passenger side. When he saw that I was just standing there, in the bed of the truck, looking

at him, he said, "Come on. Let's get this done."

I sighed, and hopped down, and got behind the steering wheel.

We finished filling the other two tanks in silence. I kept waiting for Crane to say something more. About why he'd given

me that disappointed look. But he didn't. Just in that short length of time, I got myself all worked up. I felt my mood

shifting, and my temper rising. I hadn't done anything, I thought, in defense. But then, just as quickly, my temper faded

away. Staying mad at Crane, well, it's like a really hard thing to do. Wanting to know why he'd given me that look was almost

more than I could take.

When I'd parked the truck, backed up to water hydrant, ready to be filled again, I turned off the motor. I got out, because

Crane did. He hefted what was left in the second sack of range cubes over his shoulder, and said, "Grab the buckets, alright?"

So I reached into the bed of the truck, and hooked the handles of the two buckets over my arm. following along as he

headed toward the feed shed.

After he'd set the sack down, and I'd hung up the two buckets, I followed him outside. I was trying to think about how

to bring it up when he paused in his walking, and looked at me, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

So I asked. "What did I say that was wrong? Was it calling him Freaky Frank?"

Crane sighed. "No, Harlie, that's not it."

"Then what?" I asked, truly perplexed. Another thought occurred to me sudden-like.

"Because I called Kristin's mom stupid?" I asked then.

"That's disrespectful," he acknowledged. "And I don't want to hear you say it again. But no, that's not what really

bothered me about what you said."

"Then what?" I appealed again, feeling as though I might start crying. And I did not want to do that.

"I'd like to see you be a little easier on people. Kinder," he said. He said it softly. But he said it.

I stared at him a long moment, and now my eyes did well up with tears. "You don't think I'm kind?" I asked, feeling

as though somebody had punched me in the bread basket.

"That's not what I meant, exactly," Crane said. He looked around, and then went to sit on a square bale of hay that

had been left by the front of the shed for I don't know how long. "Come over here and sit down a minute."

I stood where I was, feeling blind-sided, and emotional.

"Harlie," he prompted, meaning that I should come over to sit down beside him.

"I've got to feed the goats," I mumbled.

"The goats can wait a couple of minutes. I want to talk to you."

I turned my head, still blinking back tears, and looking towards the house, and not at him.

"Come on, before this becomes something that it doesn't need to be," Crane said. His voice had lost its patient

tone, and gone up the scale. From a cajoling number one to a three or even a four.

I wished that I had the nerve, the cahoonas, to storm off across the yard. But I didn't. Have the nerve, I mean.

I went over and sat down on the hay bale next to him, folding my hands, and not looking at him.

He reached over and swiped at one wet eye. "Why the tears?" he asked.

"It's not easy, finding out that you think I'm not a nice person," I said, low.

"I'd never say that to you. And I'd never think it, either," Crane said, sounding irritated. "Because it doesn't happen

to be true."

I gave him a side-ways glance, and he raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"Can I explain to you now?" he asked. "Are you ready to listen?"

I nodded.

"Nobody can ever know what someone else is truly going thru in their life. We can hear things, or observe things, but

really, only that person can know all the facts, and feel all the emotions of the situation. We should do our best to not

be harsh in judging them. Because, again, we don't really know all there is to know. Only they do."

"You're talking about Kristin's mom," I said.

"Yeah. That's right."

As I turned to face him a little more squarely on, he went on, "That doesn't mean that I necessarily agree with decisions

that Linda's making. About Frank. And, I definitely think that she should consider Kristin in everything. But, right or wrong,

they're her decisions. And, I think that Linda's been thru an awful lot of pain in her life."

"Here's the main thing," he said. "It's fine to have your own opinions about things. It means you're growing up. Along

with those opinions, though, you need to try to have an understanding heart about people. And what they might be going

thru."

He sighed. "I know you come from a place of caring, and worry about Kristin. I care about her, too. But, to make

the sort of comment that you did, about her mom not being deserving of an opinion about Kristin, well, that's harsh."

After that, he didn't say anything more. He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees and his hands folded,

looking at me. Waiting, I guessed, for me to acknowledge that I understood what he was getting at.

"I'll try," I said, just wanting this "talk" to be over with. But, I knew he would sit right there, just as he was,

until I answered and seemed to have heard what he had to say.

"To have more of an understanding heart," I added.

"Okay," he said quietly.

After that, my morning didn't seem to go very well. While helping with the fencing, I let a steel fence post fall on

Guthrie's foot, and from the way he carried on about it, well, Good Lord, you would have thought I'd succeeded in

severing a couple of his toes. It did succeed in catching him on the leg, on the way down to his foot, and he swore his knee

was bleeding, underneath his jeans.

I apologized, and he was still grumbling about it, until I snapped and told him to quit being such a damn baby. And I

said 'damn', too, not 'darn' or any of the other non-swear words.

And, though most of the guys were spread out along with line, stretching fence, and digging holes, we happened to

be nearest to Brian at that point. Which was lucky, if you wanted to look at it that way. Brian has never been one

to come uncorked at bad language from us younger kids, at least for the most part. I saw him look up from his task of

pounding down a post, but he didn't say anything.

If it had ended then, things might have been alright. But Guthrie went too far, when he said, "How about I drop one on

your foot, and we'll see who the baby is then?"

"Both of you, knock it off," Brian ordered.

"I wouldn't still be whining about it, if it was me," I said.

Guthrie gave an eye roll, and, in irritation, I thrust the three posts I was holding at him. "Do it yourself!" I told him.

Guthrie didn't have much of a chance to grasp at the posts, and when he tried to catch them, the end of one caught him in the

side. He muttered an 'Ow!', and I stood there, looking at him, horrified. I hadn't meant to hurt him.

"What'd you do that for?" he asked, straightening the posts, and still grimacing.

"I didn't mean to-" I began.

"Good grief, Har," he said, sounding disgusted.

Brian hollered over to us. "What's goin' on?" he demanded, sounding vastly irritated.

I gave Guthrie a glance, sure he was going to rat me out, complain to Brian that I'd managed to hurt his leg, his foot,

and now his side. And with a pointy-ended steel fence post, no less. Fooling around with fencing supplies

is never a good idea.

"Just a disagreement," Guthrie said. He carried the posts over to where Brian was working. "Here," he said, laying the posts on the ground.

I'd followed, and Brian gave Guthrie a long look, and then me, a longer one.

"Do you two need to be separated the rest of the morning?" Brian asked. It would have been funny, at another time,

that he would ask that. Almost as though Guthrie and I were five and six years old again, arguing over what cartoon to watch.

Guthrie shook his head. "Naw."

"No," I said.

Brian shook his head a little, and went back to work.

7

When it got closer to lunchtime, Brian told me to go inside the house and help with that. I went without any complaint, glad by this time

to go.

Hannah was busy in the kitchen, when I came in the back door, leaning over to read from one of the worn cookbooks that

had belonged to my mother. She looked up to smile at me.

"How's the fencing going?" she asked me.

"Slowly."

I went to wash my hands at the kitchen sink. "Where's Kristin?" I asked.

"Upstairs with Clare, folding laundry."

"What are you making?" I asked then, leaning over to peer at the page she was reading.

"Thinking about making Mississippi Mud cake."

"Yum," I said, and then I gave a sigh, wishing for the one-millionth time that I didn't have diabetes.

Hannah correctly interpreted that sigh of mine. "You can have some," she told me. "A small piece won't hurt you."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"I think the mail came. Would you go down and get it?"

I said okay, and went thru the living room, pausing to pull off my boots, and socks, leaving them in a heap beside

the couch. I walked to the mailbox, barefooted, and sure enough, the mail had come early. It looked to me to be nothing

but a bunch of bills again. On the way back up the driveway, I turned when I heard a vehicle coming up the road. They were

driving really fast, dust in a cloud behind the truck. Then, it braked suddenly, whipping into our driveway, and coming up.

Halfway up as I was, I stepped over out of the way, onto the grass at the side of the driveway.

I didn't recognize the truck, as it slowed to a stop next to where I stood. And I didn't recognize the driver, either, though

the passenger looked familiar, in a vague sort of a way.

"Hi, there," the guy driving greeted me. He looked as though he was in his early twenties or so, and he held a beer in

the hand that he had on the steering wheel.

"Hi," I said.

"This the McFadden place?" he asked then.

"Uh huh."

He gave me a careless grin. "What's your name?"

I wrinkled my forehead, as a whiff of marijuana came out of the cab.

"Were you looking for one of my brothers?" I asked him, feeling a tad uneasy.

"Yeah. I heard there's a bunch of brothers runnin' this ranch." He laughed as though that was funny.

I looked towards the house, and saw Gus and Warrior trotting down the driveway, obviously intent on investigating who

was here. I felt better instantly. My four-legged pals were coming to check on me.

Warrior went to the passenger side of the truck, and then around the back, sniffing and smelling. Gus came to stand beside me,

barking.

"Gussie," I reassured him, reaching down to rub his ear.

"Nice dog," the driver said. "I used to have one just like him."

"My brothers are up by the barn," I said. I knew I was entirely safe, with the dogs there, and family within

yelling range. There was something about the young guy that made me feel weird, though. Not to mention the weed.

"What's your name?" he asked me again.

"This way," I said, instead of answering him. I began to walk towards the house, and Gus stayed beside me, while Warrior

ran alongside the truck. Both of them were barking.

Instead of driving on up to the house to park, the driver kept pace with my walking. Not ahead of me, and not behind me. Just

right beside me.

"You're a McFadden, huh?" he asked then, talking louder so as to be heard over the dog's barking.

I gave him a look, feeling more courage the closer that I got to the house. "You must have a real high IQ, if you

can figure that out," I said.

Instead of making him mad, he burst out laughing. "Whoo wee! Did you hear that, Charlie?" he asked, turning to the

so-far silent passenger. "This one's got some spirit to her!"

And then, coming from the direction of the corral, I saw Daniel, walking fast, and with obvious purpose toward me. Evan wasn't far

behind. I had to admit that I was glad to see them coming.

I stopped walking, and so the driver stopped, too, putting the truck into park.

"Brothers?" he asked me, still looking amused.

"That's right," I said.

"Well, that's fine," he said, and the way that he said it gave me chills down my back. He sounded sort of sinister.

By now Daniel was there, slightly in front of me. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice on the cusp of being challenging.

"I'm Trey Howard," he said. "This is my brother, Charlie. We're lookin' for work."

Evan was there now, on the other side of me, so that I was more or less in the middle.

"I don't know of any work around. You'd have to ask in town," Daniel said.

"Work here," the one named Trey specified. "We heard there was work right here."

Daniel and Evan exchanged a very quick glance. "There's no work here," Evan said.

"Well, how about that?" Trey said, laughing. "We heard the McFaddens were hiring. That you all needed help

this summer."

I felt Daniel stiffen a bit, though he didn't really show it on the surface. "You heard wrong," he said, quietly.

"Well, that's a shame," Trey said. "That's a damn shame."

His eyes went to me, and he didn't look amused any longer. But more scary. There was no question that he

was perusing me.

"Go on up to the house," Daniel said, reaching his hand behind to pat one of my legs.

I hesitated, just for the briefest of moments. Then I obeyed, and only a few steps later, I looked back. The one called

Trey had opened the truck door, and had one foot on the ground. I broke into a run, Gus following me, still barking.

I ran to where the fencing was going on. Ford and Crane weren't there, but Guthrie, holding a strand of wire

taut as Adam stretched it, looked up at my flurried arrival. "What's the matter with you?" he asked me.

Adam looked at me, as I stopped, breathless, and Brian came walking up.

"You should come," I managed, still breathing hard from running. "There's some guys here."

7


	51. Unexpected happening

I was even more out of breath, trying to keep up with how fast Adam and Brian headed towards the driveway.

By the time we were within sight, the truck was backing up, all the way down the driveway. He was backing up fast, too.

Daniel and Evan were walking back towards the house, and as soon as they were within hearing distance,

Adam asked, "What's going on?" in a worried way.

Waiting to answer until they were all standing near to one another, Daniel said, "Said they're lookin' for work. I think it's more like

they're lookin' for trouble."

"How so?" Brian asked.

"They're edgy," Daniel said. "Nothing they said made any sense."

"You see them before today?" Adam asked.

"No," Daniel said, with a shake of his head.

"Nope. I haven't either," Evan said.

"What was their names?" Daniel asked Evan. "Travis somethin'?"

Before Evan could answer, I spoke up. "Trey and Charlie Howard. That's what he said."

That made all their attentions turn to me. "What'd they say to you?" Daniel asked me. Then, in explanation, he

said to Brian and Adam, "We heard the dogs barking up a fuss, and came up on them talkin' to her."

Now they were all waiting, for my explanation of how it had begun.

"I was walking back from the mailbox, and they just whipped into the driveway," I said. "They asked if this was

the McFadden's. And I told them you all were up by the barn."

"I got a bad feelin' about 'em," Evan said. "When they were talkin'. They were looking for trouble," he added, echoing what

Daniel had said.

"They said real specifically that they heard the McFaddens needed help," Daniel said.

Adam and Brian exchanged a glance between them, and then Adam said, "Well, there's nothing to be done about it. You

sent 'em on their way. Hopefully, that's the end of it."

Brian asked me, "That all they said to you?"

"Only the one did all the talking," I told him.

"Him, then. Is that all he said to you?"

"He asked me my name," I said. "And if I was a McFadden."

"Did they try to scare you any?" Adam asked me then.

"No. Not really. I mean, they were sort of weird acting." I hesitated. "And when they saw Daniel and Evan

coming, they asked if they were my brothers. When I said yes, he said, 'that's fine', in sort of a creepy way."

"Hmm," Adam said, looking thoughtful. And concerned.

"I think I might have seen the other one somewhere before," I went on. "The one that didn't say anything."

"Where at?" Adam asked.

"I don't remember right now," I said.

"Well, that's alright," Adam dismissed it. "Likely we don't need to worry about it."

By the time lunch had been eaten, some of the guys went back to the fencing. The ones that weren't doing that spread out

for work further from the house.

Before he went back outside, Adam paused by the back door, addressing Hannah. "You alright with work in the house? Or do you need

Harlie this afternoon?"

Inwardly, I simmered. Why should I get stuck inside all afternoon, just because I happened to be a female? I guess I must

have shown my true feelings on my face, even though I didn't say anything, because I looked up to see Daniel eyeing me.

He was wrinkling his forehead at me a little. I put my plate in the stack beside the sink, and waited to

hear what Hannah had to say.

"I think we can manage," Hannah said, looking towards Clare and Kristin. "Don't you think so, Kristin?" she asked, smiling.

Kristin nodded, looking happy to be included in Hannah's words, and I felt a prick of guilt nudge me. Kristin was so happy just

to be around our house.

At Hannah's next words, though, I really felt guilty.

"Besides, I know Harlie would much rather be outside," Hannah said. "Right, sweetie?" she asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah," I said, and when Adam said, "Well, come on then, sugar," I stopped long enough to give Hannah

a quick hug.

Hannah hugged me back, looking pleased by my affectionate gesture.

As I walked across the yard with all of the guys, Adam said I could go along with Guthrie, Evan, and Ford, taking the truck up to

the line cabin, to clean it out. All the stuff that had been there when Seth and the other guy were trespassing were still there.

Guthrie and Evan drove up in the truck, and Ford and I rode horseback, so we could check on the fences as we went, and a bit further on.

At the last minute, Evan sent me back inside to grab some trash bags to put all the trash from the cabin into. While I was in

the kitchen getting those, I filled a sack with several apples, and some cookies. I figured Ford and I might need some

snacks to bolster us up thru the afternoon.

To me it felt like heaven, being out riding, even though the sun was bearing down really hot.

Once at the cabin, we all went inside, though a bit cautiously. Once inside, it was an out and out mess, no doubt about it.

We all got a trash bag, and started pitching stuff into them.

"Gall darn pigs," Guthrie grumbled, stuffing newspapers and dirty paper plates into his trash bag. There were bugs all over some of those

plates.

I was peering into the hole in the floor, and was startled into a squeal when a mouse popped up and scurried across the floor.

"What is it?" Evan asked, coming over immediately. "A snake?"

"No. A mouse," I said, without thinking.

Immediately, Evan went into that older brother mode, the one designed to scoff at a silly younger sibling.

"You're screaming about a mouse?" he asked, sounding disbelieving.

"I didn't scream," I denied. "I just squealed a little."

"And you want to be a vet?" he asked me, in a mocking sort of way.

"It just startled me, is all," I protested.

"Uh huh," he said, with a sort of wicked grin. I knew he was going to be razzing me about the whole incident for a long

time.

I was glad when we were close enough to being done cleaning up that Evan began to try to patch that hole in the

floorboards. They had brought up some scrap lumber just for that purpose.

Kneeling on the floor beside the hole, Evan looked up at me and said, with a wicked twinkle in his eyes, "Sure you don't want to

take another good look in here, Har, before I board it up? Maybe your little mouse friend has some relatives that want to say hi to you."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You know what, Ev? Whoever told you that you were funny, well, they were lying to you."

Evan laughed and began adjusting the short pieces of scrap boards to fit over the hole to be nailed down. Guthrie was crouched down

beside him, holding the boards as Evan began to nail them.

"Don't slip and hit me with the hammer," Guthrie said. "I've got enough injuries from earlier this morning."

"Why, what happened this mornin'?" Evan asked.

"Har is what happened," Guthrie said. "She practically killed me with some fence posts."

"Don't start all that again," I told Guthrie.

I knew Guthrie was just having a go at teasing me, the same as Evan had been about the mouse. But, somehow I felt as though

I was on 'brother' overload for some reason.

"I'm going to ride on," I announced. "I can start checking on the fence, and you all can catch up to me."

"You're not goin' by yourself," Evan said, still nailing away. "Just simmer down and wait for us."

"Oh, for gosh sakes," I said, in vast irritation. I stomped outside, and untied Petra from the railing that Ford and I had tied our

horses to. I was petting Petra's neck, and I could hear Ford saying, "Okay. See you in a few."

He came out the door of the cabin, and went to the truck, reaching in to take the rifle from the gun rack.

"Ready to go?" he asked me, sliding the rifle into the long holster off of the saddle.

"Do we have permission to go?" I asked, sarcastically, referring to Evan's comment.

Ford only looked at me, and then mounted his horse, without saying anything. He began riding down thru the trees then,

and I quickly got on Petra, following him.

As we rode along, and I was eventually riding alongside of him, Ford said, "What's wrong today?"

I gave him a quick sideways glance, and then I said, "What do you mean?"

"You're grouchy," he said bluntly.

"I don't think I'm so grouchy," I said in protest.

Ford shrugged, and said no more.

After a few minutes of quiet riding, I said, "I guess I am. A little bit."

"Something bothering you?" he asked then.

"No. Not really." I thought for a moment and then I added, "It just seems sometimes like I'm always going to be treated like

a kid."

"How so?" he asked.

"That's how Evan treats me. Like I don't have any brains. And today Crane-" I hesitated, letting my voice trail off.

"Crane what?" Ford prompted.

"Nothing," I said. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Ford said. "As far as Evan goes, he doesn't mean anything by the way he talks. Heck, he talks to me like that too, sometimes."

"Sometimes, maybe. But not all the time, like he does me," I corrected.

"It's not all the time, Har," Ford corrected.

"It's not just Evan," I went on, ignoring Ford's last comment. "Everybody does it. I think everybody still focuses on what

I did, running off to Daniel's last spring."

"Nobody is still thinkin' about that," Ford objected, giving me a frown. "That's all been forgiven and put away."

"I don't think so," I denied, and Ford gave me a sad sort of a look, and shook his head a little.

As soon as I said that, I felt badly. I knew that Adam and Brian and everybody else had forgiven me totally for what I'd done. Even

Evan had forgiven me. I'd felt the family's love and forgiveness in all of it. So I had no reason to say such a thing like that. It wasn't true.

Any of the other six would have given me what-for if I'd said what I had to them. I'd have been hollered at, and lectured, and

most of them would have been angry about it. Even Guthrie would have told me that I was talking crazy.

Ford, though, well, he's different that way. He only gave me that sorrowful look, and shook his head, and then looked straight ahead,

saying no more.

We rode now in silence again, for quite a while.

"I'm sorry," I said finally. "I'm being a jerk."

When he only gave me another of those 'sorrowful' looks, I added, "I know you're right. About everybody forgiving me. I'm just

in a bad mood, I guess."

"It's alright," Ford said. "If you really do feel that way, though, about what happened, and how the family feels, well, then you need

to talk to them."

"You're not gonna say anything to anybody, are you?" I asked, in sudden worry.

"Of course not."

I sighed with relief. "Okay. I don't really feel that way. I know-" I hesitated. "That they've all put it away, like you said."

"Okay, Har," he said.

There was something in his tone. "You're thinking something," I said, with certainty.

"I just think that a person's true feelings and worries can come out, sometimes when you don't really even know that you're still

feeling a certain way about something."

I considered that, looking at Ford contemplatively. "Well, maybe," I admitted.

"If you feel that way, then it just means you need to talk to them," Ford continued. "So you can hash it out, and put your mind at ease."

"It would hurt Adam so much," I said softly. "If he thought I felt that way."

"He'd want to know."

After that, we didn't talk about it anymore. We checked fence as we rode. To my surprise, and my delight, we came upon a

small group of horses in a meadow. I saw them first, because Ford was looking off the other direction.

"Ford, look!" I said, in a rushed whisper.

"What?" he asked.

"Shhh! Look!" I pointed.

We both rode to a stop, and just sat there watching. We weren't a very far distance from them. Maybe a quarter of a mile or so. Close

enough that we could see there were five of them. One was the stallion that I'd seen the other two times. He raised his head and

looked directly at us. This was so different than seeing them down in a canyon, and being high above. So much better. I held my breath,

waiting for them to spook at the fact that we were so close to them.

I heard Ford's quick intake of breath. "Wow," he said softly, reverently.

"Should we ride closer?" I asked. I didn't want to frighten them away, but yet, the desire to get closer pulled at me.

"Let's not," Ford said.

The stallion took a few steps, and then made a small run in a circle around the other Mustangs. He paused, and looked at

us again, and then, almost as if he spoke to the mares, all six of them broke into a run at nearly the same moment. They galloped away, thru

the meadow, and they were gone, out of sight.

I let out a breath that I'd been holding. "Ford," I said, with emotion.

"I know," Ford answered, in understanding. "That was amazing."

As we began to ride on, I was still in somewhat shock that we'd been at exactly the right place at the right time.

"Why do you think they're down here?" I asked Ford. "So far from where they usually are?"

"Maybe they're lookin' for a safer place to be. Where they won't get chased down," he suggested.

What Ford said made good sense.

"They feel safe on our property, Ford. Isn't that amazing?"

"They don't know it's our property, goofy," Ford said.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," Ford said, and smiled at me.

"I hope when they saw us like that, that it doesn't make them not want to be here," I said, feeling a qualm. "They might think we're like

all the other humans they've seen, and think we want to hurt them."

Ford started to answer, when he suddenly pulled up on his reins. I looked the direction that he was staring into.

Four eyes were staring back at us. The eyes belonged to what I first thought were donkeys. Two small, furry, brown ones.

They were contentedly munching on grass. Or they were, after they'd given us a good look.

"Donkeys!" I said, with glee, though I didn't say it loudly. I didn't want to startle them. Why would two donkeys be all the way out here,

like that?

"Ford, they're burros," I said in excitement. "Wild burros!"

"Maybe so."

"I'm sure they are. Maybe the stallion brought them here!"

"It's hard to say. They might have been around here for awhile," Ford said.

"Wouldn't we have seen them, though, if they had been? I mean, there's somebody up this way all the time."

"Maybe," he said again.

We just sat for a couple of minutes, watching the burros. They stopped surveying us and went back to grazing on the grass. I had a

sudden inspiration, and reached into the snack bag hooked over my saddle horn. I took out an apple.

"Can I borrow your pocket knife?" I asked Ford.

"What for?" Ford asked. but he reached into his pocket and brought out his worn pocket knife.

I took it from him, and sliced the apple into two separate pieces, handing the knife back to him. "I'm gonna give them a piece of apple," I said, and slid

down from Petra's back.

"Well, don't get too close," Ford cautioned. "Just toss the apple pieces over there."

I began to walk closer to where the two burros were standing. They were both on alert, turning their faces and twitching their ears.

I began to talk softly to them. Ford had gotten down off his horse, as well, holding the reins of his horse and Petra, too.

"Don't try to hand feed them," Ford warned me.

"They're not aggressive," I said, taking another few steps closer. "They're gentle."

"You don't know which they are," he argued. "Toss 'em the apples."

One of the burros moved, appearing skittish. and I paused, staying still.

"Harlie, toss the apple," Ford ordered. "I'm not kidding."

"Oh, alright," I said, succumbing to his protests. I threw one of the pieces to the burro closest to me, and then the second piece I aimed

to the ground near the other burro. Both began immediately to sniff at the apple slices. And then nibble.

"Look, Ford," I said. "They're eating it!"  
"I see," Ford said. "Come on. We need to get going."

I sighed, reluctant to leave the burros. I was still standing there, and Ford said, "Harlie. Seriously."

"Okay, okay," I said, turning to walk back over to the horses. I took the reins from him, and we both mounted. Ford rode ahead, and I followed,

still looking back at the burros, who had finished their apples swiftly, and were now just watching me.

7


	52. A favor

I was thrilled by the fact that the two burros traveled a few feet, as we began to ride away, almost as though they were going

to follow us. I whistled what I hoped was a soothing tune, trying to lure them into continuing.

"They're following us, Ford," I whispered joyfully.

Ford gave a look back. But, of course, they didn't continue to follow. They stopped, returning to grazing on the grass.

"Aww," I said, in disappointment.

"It's better that they don't follow us, anyway," Ford pointed out.

"Why?" I asked.

"You don't want them comin' down so close to houses or anything like that. Somebody might try to catch them."

I hadn't thought about that. "It sure was cool, though, to see them, wasn't it? All of them."

"Yeah, it was amazing," Ford said, repeating his words from earlier, when we'd first seen the Mustangs.

We kept checking the fences, as we rode, and I asked Ford what he thought about the Mustangs being

hunted down.

"Well, I think it's wrong, of course," he said.

"I know that. I meant, do you think it's alright to catch them, not to sell them for dog food, but to keep them for

personal use?"

Ford looked thoughtful. "I don't think so. They're born free. They should stay that way."

"That's what I think, too."

"Unless they're bothering the ranchers," Ford went on. "Then they need to be moved to a different location."

"There's plenty of grass. Why do they have to pose a problem to the ranchers?"

"There's not always plenty of grass."

"Oh," I said, remembering reading that in the article that Crane had gotten at the library. Sometimes the ranchers didn't like the Mustangs

because they trampled fences, as well.

After a few more minutes, we heard the sound of the Jeep coming along. After we'd covered the rest of the area, checking

on the fences, and were back at the house again, I went with Ford to put up the horses.

Evan came into the tack shed, as I was hanging up Petra's bridle. "Hey, Har. I wanted to ask you somethin'."

"Is it about a mouse?" I asked, with a roll of my eyes.

"No, it's not about a mouse."

"What, then?"

"Nancy has this cousin of hers visiting this week. Her parents have to go to a meeting or somethin' tonight, and I was gonna take

her out, to that new Mexican restaurant."

"Uh huh," I said, pausing to look at him.

"They don't want to leave him sitting home alone," Evan went on.

"Oh, it's a 'he'," I said. I knew exactly where this conversation was going, and I was enjoying yanking Evan's chain a little bit.

"Come on, Har," he said.

"Let me guess. You want me to go out with him, right?"

"Right."

"Alone? Or with you and Nancy?" I asked.

"With us."

"Hmm," I said, dusting my hands on my jeans. "And how old is this 'visiting' cousin? Twelve?"

"He's fifteen. Nancy says he's a real nice kid."

"Not a serial killer, or a bank robber, huh?" I asked smartly.

"Not that I know of," Evan said, with a totally straight face.

"What if I don't like him?" I asked then.

"Just go out tonight, be civil to him, don't tell him you think he's a dumbass. That's all you've gotta do. It's a one-night

thing."

"I don't have a lot of money," I said.

"I'm paying, goofy," he said, sounding impatient.

"Okay," I agreed, and Evan grinned.

"Great. Thanks, Har. We leave at six."

As he started off towards the direction of the barn, I called after him. "You can't tease me about that stupid mouse now!"

Evan waved a hand at me, without even turning around. "Yeah, yeah," he said.

7

I went in to grab a shower around four, and changed to a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt. When I went back downstairs,

I went to help Clare and Hannah get supper ready.

I told them about going out with Nancy's cousin, and Clare said I could borrow one of her blouses.

"The yellow one?" I asked hopefully.

"Sure," she said, laughing. "If you want. Go up and help yourself."

So I went upstairs, to their attic apartment, and found the particular yellow blouse. I love it, because it's sleeveless and lacy.

I switched out my t-shirt, for it, and then went back downstairs. When they all started coming inside for supper, I told Adam about the plans for the evening.

He nodded in response, and all he said was, "Okay."

Brian, however, added to the conversation. "We don't know this kid," he protested.

"It's Nancy's cousin," Clare reminded him.

"That don't automatically make him a good kid," Brian insisted.

"Nancy says he's alright," Evan spoke up, from beside the sink, where he was pouring a glass of milk.

"You don't go off alone with him, alright?" Brian told me.

I nodded, but before I could answer, Evan said, "I'll take care of her, Bri. Stop worryin'."

Honestly. It was all I could do not to stamp my foot, or screech out and say something along the lines of how I

wasn't a baby, and how I wished they would all just relax a bit.

"So you're not going to eat now?" Hannah asked me and Evan, looking at us both. "You're going to wait to eat-where? The new Mexican

place?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna wait," Evan said, sitting down in his spot at the table, with his glass of milk.

"How about you, sweetie?" Hannah asked me.

"I'll wait, too."

I was sort of relieved actually, when Clare brought up what Ford and I had gotten to see earlier.

"Ford says you got to see part of the Mustang herd," Clare said, leaning over to look across Guthrie and Kristin at me.

"Yeah, we did," I said, feeling the excitement all over again. "And we saw two burros, too!"

"There were burros with them?" Crane asked.

"They weren't really with the rest of the herd," I said. "We saw them after that."

Evan finished his milk and went upstairs to change his clothes.

I had a good time that night. We did try out the new Mexican restaurant in Angels Camp. Usually Mexican isn't my favorite type

of food. I'd much rather have Chinese if I were to choose. But, I did enjoy it at the new place. It was really crowded so we had to

wait a few minutes to get a table.

Nancy's cousin was named Brock. He was about my height, and had a really thick head of hair. He seemed to spend a good part of his

time combing that hair, which I found sort of weird for a guy. I'd never seen any of my brothers comb their hair when they were out in

public like that.

He was friendly enough, though. There were some pinball games and other stuff in the arcade attached to the Mexican place. Brock asked

me if I wanted to go and play some of the games while we were waiting for our food to be cooked. I played a couple of games, and then stopped,

mostly because I'd only brought a couple of dollars with me, and it didn't take long to go thru that much.

Brock kept on playing, and then glanced over at me, as I stood, watching him as he played a game of Pac-man.

"How come you stopped playing?" he asked me.

"Two games is enough for me," I said.

"I play this all the time at home," he said. "My friends and I hang out at the arcade all day during the summer."

"Really?" I asked, while thinking to myself that I would find that incredibly boring.

I asked him then if he was enjoying his visit with Nancy's family.

"Sure. It's okay. Not much to do around here, though," he pointed out.

"Do you ride?" I asked him, thinking that maybe he could come over and go riding with Guthrie and Kristin and I.

"Ride what?"

"Horseback riding," I said.

"Naw. I've never done that," he said. "I skateboard, though." And at that point, he launched into an enthusiastic speech about

the advantages of being an avid skateboarder.

I decided that Brock, though nice enough, was pretty immature. All he wanted to talk about was playing the arcade games,

and the high scores of that, and skateboarding.

We had our meal, and then Nancy suggested going to the Dari Kurl when we got back to Murphys. So, parked there, squeezed four

in the seat of Evan's truck, we waited for our shakes.

Evan and Nancy got out at one point to walk over and talk to some friends of Nancy's. Brock and I stayed in the truck, but once there

was more space, I moved away from him. Just a bit, but still away.

"So," Brock said slowly, "Nancy and Evan are getting married, huh? What do you think about that?"

"I'm really happy about it," I said. "Our whole family is. We think Nancy's great."

"Yeah? Well, Evan seems like an alright guy," Brock said.

"He is," I agreed.

Brock sort of leaned around me, looking across the parking lot of the Dari Kurl. It was pretty dark by now, but there were lots of

lights from the building and the street lights.

He slid over closer, and laid an arm around the back of the seat, nearly touching my shoulders.

"Want to hang out again while I'm here?" he asked me.

"I don't know, Brock," I said, in honesty.

"You're probably used to older guys, huh? That can drive you around and stuff?" he asked, sounding a bit dejected.

"It's not that," I said, wondering what to say. I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"That's okay," he said. "I had fun with you tonight."

"I had fun, too," I said, glad that he was going to let it go.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked me then. Just like that. Blunt and forward.

I hesitated, caught by surprise.

I took a couple of seconds to 'search my inner feelings'. Which is what Clare has said to do whenever you're not sure

how you really feel about kissing a guy.

My inner voice wasn't screeching in horror, so I said, "I guess."

Brock leaned over and kissed me, then. Real quickly, and then, just like that, it was done. Not horrible, but not anything special, either.

Evan drove us back to Nancy's house, and Brock got out with a casual, "See you around, Harlie." He bounded up the front steps

and into the house.

Nancy turned to me and gave me a nudge. "Thanks for hanging out with Brock tonight."

"It's okay," I told her.

Nancy and I said our goodbyes, and then Evan walked her up the steps and to the front door. He was only gone for a few

minutes and then, once back in the cab, he pulled out into the street, and headed out of Murphys.

We'd only driven a couple of miles when Evan reached over to turn the radio down.

"Thanks for goin' tonight," he said. "It meant a lot to Nancy."

"It's okay."

"She thinks you're really terrific, you know?" Evan said.

"I think she's terrific, too," I said.

"Yeah."

There was quiet for a few minutes, and then Evan said, "So what did you think of Brock?"

"He was alright," I said. "Nice enough."

"Not a jerk?" he asked.

"No. Just-sort of immature," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Sort of. He's only interested in arcade games and skateboarding."

"Not what you're used to," Evan commented.

"Not really."

"He didn't get handsy or anything, did he?" Evan asked.

"Handsy?" I said. "I don't think that's a real word, Ev."

"It is a real word. And you know what I mean."

"Yes. I know what you mean. No, he didn't."

"Okay. Good," Evan said, sounding relieved.

"He asked if he could kiss me," I said.

"No way," Evan said, sounding a little mad. "He shouldn't have. First date like that-"

"Ev, it's fine," I said. "He wasn't rude, or pushy or anything."

"Good thing for him that he wasn't," Evan said. "So, what did you say?"

"I said okay."

"You didn't have to, you know. You shouldn't feel as though you had to, just because he's Nancy's cousin."

"I know I didn't have to. And that's not why I did it." I looked his direction in the darkish truck cab. "I wouldn't have, if my 'inner' had

said not to."

"Your what?" he asked.

"My 'inner'. Never mind, it's a girl thing," I told him.

"Okay," he said, sounding a little amused.

7

Once at home, we were greeted by all three of the bigger dogs running up to the truck. Clarence, predictably, was no where in sight.

Probably sleeping on the porch. Or inside, if he'd managed to make Hannah feel sorry enough for him.

There was whinnying from the fence. "Sounds like Charlie," I said. "I'm going to get an apple and say goodnight to him."

Evan said alright, and went on towards the house. I went to the barn, switching on the light so I could see to find one of the apples

in the tub. We keep apples there all thru the summer, to feed to the pigs, or to the horses for treats, since we can't eat all that we have.

Even when we make jelly, there's always a surplus.

I got a couple of apples, figuring that Petra would be hanging out at the fence, as well.

I turned off the barn light and went over to the fence, where Charlie was hanging his head across. I knew it was him, both by his whinny, and

by the feel of his face.

"Hello, boy," I told him. "Since Petra's not here, you get two apples. How about that, huh?" I rubbed his nose affectionately. Warrior, who had

tagged along with me, gave a low growl, and then a bark, looking off into the darkness. I could see shadows of the shapes of some of the other

horses, and a few cattle.

"What is it, huh, boy?" I asked Warrior. There was no way I could tell anything in the darkness that way. I decided to go in the house, and get a

flashlight.

I went in the back door, and the kitchen was quiet. All cleaned up, and with only the light over the sink on. There was a cinnamon candle

burning, that made the whole room smell good.

I rooted thru the drawer where the flashlights are kept, but couldn't find one. So I looked above the refrigerator, standing on a chair to see, and

found one there. I took it and went back outside, heading across the yard. In the shadows, a figure came out from behind a tree, and I

nearly jumped out of my skin. I gasped, yelling, "Arghhh!"

"What are you doin', Har?" Ford asked.

"What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?" I accused him. "Good grief, Ford!"

Ford's response was to start laughing.

"It's not funny!" I told him, pressing a hand to my chest. "What are you doing, skulking around out here in the dark?"

"I could ask you the same," he reminded me. "I was just taking a walk."

"I just want to see what Warrior's barking at," I said.

"Where?"

"In the pasture, where the horses are," I told him.

"And you think you're checking it out, all by yourself?" Ford scoffed, reaching over to take the flashlight from me. "What's wrong with you?"

"Don't you start acting like that," I said.

"Acting like what?" he asked, as he gave the old flashlight a shake to help it come on.

"Like I'm a delicate flower that can't do anything on her own."

"I don't think that, and you know it," he said, sounding impatient. He turned and started walking towards the pasture, saying, "Are you

coming or not?" to me.

I followed him until I caught up, and then walked side by side to the fence, where we both crawled thru between the panels.

Warrior was still with us, and so was Jethro Bodine. The horses were milling around. It was sort of surreal out there in the dark

that way, with cattle and horses quietly grazing around us.

"What'd you hear?" Ford asked me.

"I didn't hear anything. It was Warrior. He was looking out and barking."

Ford shone the flashlight out over the pasture. The only things we saw were cattle. And horses. We walked on, a bit further.

Still nothing out of the ordinary.

Warrior hadn't barked any more. He stayed next to me, and just kept looking out into the darkness.

"I don't see anything," Ford said.

"Look at him, though," I said, speaking about Warrior. "He sees something out there."

Ford turned the flashlight onto Warrior. "He's not barking. He doesn't seem upset."

"He senses something, though," I insisted.

"Aw, I think he's alright," Ford told me. "Let's head back to the house."

He turned and began walking back towards the house. I stood where I was, my eyes looking out into the darkness. Jethro had gone off

somewhere, but Warrior stayed beside me.

"Come on, Har," Ford spoke, from the spot where he'd stopped walking.

"Let's stay out here awhile longer," I said.

"No. I'm tired. I want to take my butt to bed. Come on."

I sighed, in defeat, and turned to follow him, as he put the light where I could see to walk.

7


	53. Burros return

I gave Warrior a pat at the back door, as Ford and I went inside. Ford went to drop the flashlight back into the drawer.

He proceeded to get a glass down, and pour himself milk.

"Want some?" he asked me.

"No," I said, with a shake of my head. "I'm stuffed from supper."

"Is the new place nice?" Ford asked.

"Yeah. It's nice."

"Expensive?" he asked then.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I didn't really pay attention to the prices. Evan paid."

I got out all my diabetes supplies and gave myself my shot. Ford stood watching me, sipping at his milk.

"You're a real pro at that now," he said.

I shrugged. "I guess I'm sort of used to it now."

Ford drained his glass, and set it in the sink. "See ya in the morning," he said, heading up the back

stairs.

"Night," I told him.

I put my supplies away, and went thru to the living room. Adam and Hannah were sitting on one of the

couches, and Evan sat opposite of them, eating a handful of cookies.

"There you are," Hannah said, in greeting. "Evan's been telling us about the new restaurant."

"Oh," I said, flopping down next to Evan.

"Did you have a good time?" Hannah asked me then.

"Yeah. It was fun," I told her.

"What's the kid's name?" Adam asked.

"Brock."

"Yeah. Brock. He a nice kid?" Adam asked.

"He was nice," I said, in noncommittal.

"Good. I'm glad you went," Hannah said. "It seems as though you haven't gotten to do much this summer."

"You do your shot?" Adam asked.

"Uh huh."

It was just a few minutes after that, and Adam said he was bone-weary and ready for bed. He and Hannah stood up,

and I stood up, too, giving them both a hug goodnight.

When they'd gone up the stairs, their arms around one another's waists, Evan tugged on the hem of my

shirt.

"Hey," he said. "How about doin' some practice in the morning?"

There was only one sort of practice that he would be talking about.

"The rodeo's comin' up soon," he went on.

"Really?" I asked, in nonchalance.

"Yeah, really." He gave me a tug, and I plopped down beside him on the couch. "You gonna do it?"

"I'm not good enough, Ev."

"Well, heck no, not talkin' like that, you're not," he said.

"Why do you want me to do it so much?" I asked.

"I just think you should try. It's a good way to get some experience and make some money."

"You have to win at the event to win the money," I said dryly.

"Alright, smartass," he said, giving me a light push as he got to his feet. I stood up, too, following him

as he started up the stairs.

"Maybe I will," I said lightly.

"Yeah? Good."

"Don't come out and watch me in the morning, though," I told him.

"Why the heck not?" he demanded.

"You make me nervous," I said.

"How do I make you nervous?"

"Because you holler, and you criticize."

"When you put it that way, I sound like a real ass," Evan said dryly.

I gave him a conciliatory shrug of my shoulders.

Evan thumped me on the head, not really too hard, though. And then he went on down the hall to his own

room.

7

I set my alarm for an early morning rising. Five-thirty. When it went off, I had to talk myself into getting out of bed.

Once up and going, and dressed, I went down to the kitchen, and started the ever-present pot of coffee. While it was

perking, I made myself a ham sandwich from leftovers. A weird breakfast, but it tasted just fine as I went out the back door,

nibbling on it, and drinking out of my Carlsbad Caverns coffee cup.

I finished my coffee and sandwich, sitting on a bale of hay, with all of the dogs sitting in a semi-circle around me,

waiting for a handout. I grabbed a couple of the apples from the barn to tempt Petra, and to reward her.

Once I'd managed to capture Petra, and get her tacked up, I rode over to where the three barrels were still set up in the

field. I realized that I'd once again neglected to bring anything to time the runs with. I figured it didn't really matter at this

point, though. We were certain to be as slow as we'd been at the beginning.

I repositioned my ponytail thru the back of my ball cap, and put Petra into motion. Instead of seeming reluctant, she

appeared eager to get going. We'd gone thru the pattern two times already, and I had to really work to control Petra.

She kept tossing her head, and whinnying.

It was while we were taking a break for a couple of moments, and I was leaning down, over her neck, hugging Petra, that

I saw a glimpse of brown. It was at the far end of the open meadow, just across the fence. I rode Petra a bit closer.

It was the burros! At least one of them! I wasn't close enough to see if it was both, or not.

I slid down from Petra's back, letting the reins dangle, and patted my jacket pocket to see if I still had one apple left.

I did. I went over towards the fence line so that it wouldn't seem to the burros that I was walking right up onto them. I paused

when I was still fifteen feet or so away. It was both the burros. I began to talk to them softly again, the way that

I had the day before.

Moving slowly, I came a bit closer. I took the apple from my pocket, wondering how I could split it between them without

a knife. I couldn't figure out a way, unless I would have used a rock to hammer the apple into separate pieces. And I didn't want

to do that. It might scare them off, to see me hacking away furiously like that.

I held the apple out in front of me, and walked a few steps closer. They both just looked at me in seeming curiousity, and kept

nibbling grass.

I gave the apple a gentle toss, figuring that they could decide between them who got the apple.

One of them took several steps to reach the apple, and began to crunch it.

I settled myself in the grass, and watched them, from my side of the fence. The whole while I kept talking to them.

I wanted to try to touch them, but I restrained myself. It would only scare them off. And I wanted them to stay.

"You guys remember me, don't you?" I said softly. "You know you're safe here, from all those crazy people

that keep chasing you around."

I don't know how much time passed, as I sat there. Then the peace was shattered by yelling.

"Harlie!"

My name was called out, once, and then twice. In a panicked way.

"Uh oh," I said, standing up quickly. So quickly that the burros took a few steps back at my sudden movement.

I walked quickly towards the barrels, where I saw Evan, and somebody else, too, looking around. Ah, Brian. He came

from the other side of the field.

"Hey!" I called out, to get their attention.

Evan, standing beside Petra, turned, and then he hollered, too, to Brian. Brian stopped and turned towards Evan,

who motioned towards me.

And then, as Brian came walking, (really fast), towards me, I realized with a sinking feeling that it looked as though

I'd been thrown from my horse, or something. I mean, with the way Petra was standing there, still saddled, with the reins

trailing on the ground, I can see how it would appear that way. Brian had obviously been walking over the field, thinking

I was laying in the grass somewhere, after being bucked off.

"Oh, boy," I said to myself, getting a nervous flutter in my belly. I thought about just stopping right there, and not

walking on. Letting Brian come to me. But I made my feet keep going.

"Are you alright?" were the first words out of his mouth, as he was nearly upon me.

"Yes, I'm alright."

"Were you thrown?" he demanded.

"No."

"What the hell, then?" he said, close to a shout.

"I was over there," I gestured, "With the burros-"

"What?" he demanded, looking incredulous.

"The burros-" I said, pointing towards the fence row. Brian swiftly took in the animals, who were now openly staring

our way.

"For God's sake, Harlie," he roared, "Evan and I thought you were laid out somewhere, unconscious!"

"Sorry," I said, trying to ease his temper.

"What did you suppose we'd think?" Evan said, getting in on the lecture. "Leaving Petra like that? That's the

natural conclusion-"

"I didn't think about anybody being worried," I tried to explain.

"What?!" Brian said, sounding even more furious.

"I mean, I didn't think anybody would be up this early, or looking for me," I tried again. They were both

standing, and staring at me, hands on hips.

"I'm sorry for scaring you both," I said.

I said no more, just waiting, and Evan took a few steps past us. "What are they doin' all the way here?" he asked, looking

toward the burros.

"They must have followed Ford and I yesterday," I said. "Or maybe they just sensed their way here."

"Well, they'll move on," Evan said, and tugged his hat down. "Come on. It's time for breakfast."

He walked on, but Brian stood there, still and silent. I raised my eyes, trying to gauge his mood.

"Good Lord, Harlie, you're making me gray," Brian muttered, and turned to start back towards the house.

I gave a final look back at the burros, hoping that Evan was wrong about them "moving on". I had my own ideas

about how to keep them nearby.

I went to pick up Petra's reins, leading her behind me, as I hurried to catch up with Brian's long strides.

Brian told me to hurry up, and get inside for breakfast, when I began unsaddling Petra, but he didn't sound so irritated any longer.

I was excited to tell Crane about the burros coming all this way, but I kept it to myself until breakfast was over. I didn't

want to talk about it in front of everyone else, and cause Brian to get all stirred up again.

I didn't get a chance to tell Crane right then, but I did tell Ford. His response was surprising.

"That's weird," he said.

"Why is it weird? I think it's exciting. I'll bet they were here last night. That's probably what Warrior was sensing in the dark."

"Well, you don't want them coming around here like that," he began.

I waved my hand at him in dismissal. "They're not going to eat that much grass," I said, thinking that was his

reason for saying such a thing.

Evan yelled for Ford then, and Ford said, "I'll talk to you later," and was gone.

I shrugged it off, and went about my chores. I told Kristin when we had a chance to talk, and then mid-morning,

the two of us walked back out to where the burros had been.

"Ah, shoot, they're gone," I said, in disappointment. We'd come, supplied with apples and pears both, to feed to

the burros. I'd also stuffed some hay into a empty feed bag, and brought some of the horse treats.

"No, wait," Kristin said, pointing. And, sure enough, they were there, a little further into the thicket.

We crawled thru the barbed wire fence, holding the wire for one another.

The burros were in the higher grass here, where it came up past Kristin and I's knees. They looked at us in what

seemed to be expectant interest.

I tossed out an apple and a pear, and the burros made short work of those. I shook the hay from the sack.

"What about the treats?" Kristin asked me.

"I want to try and get them to eat from my hand," I said.

"Oh," Kristin said, looking a little nervous. "Are they aggressive?"

"Maybe if they're scared," I said. "We just need to not make any sudden movements, or loud noises."

I tried holding a treat in my flat hand, and taking a few steps forward, but that seemed to make them nervous, so

I stopped, waiting for a long time, my hand out.

Finally, I just tossed the treats over to them. "Maybe if I come back several times a day, then they'll get where they'll let

me touch them," I said hopefully.

"Are you going to keep them?" Kristin asked.

"I'd like to," I admitted, "But it probably wouldn't work out. If they hang around here though, at least we can see them

sometimes."

We crawled back thru the fence, and toward the house, carrying the empty feed sack.

As we walked, Kristin asked about where Evan and Nancy would live after they got married.

I'd been wondering that same thing myself. "I don't know," I said. "It's not like we have another attic, like we fixed

for Brian and Clare."

"What about the basement?" Kristin suggested.

I thought of all the stuff that was in the basement. I had no idea where we would put any of that. The freezers were down

there, and the washing machines and dryers.

"I don't know," I said again. "I haven't heard anybody talking about it yet, or about the wedding, either."

"Maybe they won't live here," Kristin said, then. "Maybe they'll rent a house in town, or something."

That surprised me for a moment. "Maybe," I agreed.

Then Kristin turned the conversation to herself. "Has anybody said anything about me being here?" she asked me.

"No. Not to me. I mean, Crane said something. But that's because Guthrie told him that you wanted to stay."

"So, do you think Crane's already said something to Adam and Hannah, and to Brian?" Kristin asked, looking worried.

"He might have."

"Well, when will we know? I mean, should I say something?" she asked.

"Did you mention staying to Hannah the other day?"

"Not really. I sort of lost my nerve," Kristin admitted.

"I'd say talking to Crane first would be a good thing," I suggested.

"Yeah. I feel comfortable with Crane," Kristin said.

7

After that both Kristin and I got claimed for various chores and for things that needed help. I thought, as Kristin went her way

with Crane and Ford, and I went mine, with Adam and Daniel, that it was almost as if Kristin was a real member of the family.

"This is your chance to talk to Crane," I told her, in a hushed tone, as we separated.

She nodded, but looked so nervous that I knew she would probably lose her nerve.

As I sat in between Adam and Daniel, as we bounced along in the old truck, going into Murphys to run errands, the

topic of conversation turned to Daniel's plans.

Daniel was talking about leaving in two more weeks, to go back to Nashville. Apparently, what he'd told me was now

common knowledge amongst the family, since Adam knew.

Adam asked questions, and seemed supportive, but I knew that he didn't really want Daniel to go. I didn't, either. I kept

still, and just listened.

Daniel was talking about getting in some heavy rehearsal time with Red and the rest of the group, before they opened for

the Eddie Rabbitt show.

Daniel made the comment then that he felt badly about leaving while everything was still "up in the air" and

unsolved with all the weird things happening around so far this summer.

"Things will work out," Adam said. "You need to do what needs done. For you."

Daniel got quiet after that for a bit.

I was quiet, too, until the silence got to me. "The burros came this morning," I said, in conversation.

"Came where?" Adam asked.

"To our place," I said.

"What's this?" Adam said, turning to look at me.

I perked up at his seeming interest. "Early this morning, before breakfast, they were in the west field. There's just the two of them. I think

they followed Ford and I down yesterday."

"Well, you leave them be," Adam said, in a no nonsense way.

"Why?" I asked him, puzzled.

"So they'll move on. Go back up to the rest of the wild herd."

"I don't think they want to," I said. "Or maybe they can't."

"What are you talking about?" Adam asked.

"When Ford and I first saw them," I tried to explain, "It was after we saw the stallion and the mares. Then they ran

on. It was almost as though the stallion brought the burros to safety."

Adam gave me one of those "looks". I turned to Daniel, and while his expression was not quite as damning, he looked

somewhat amused. I twisted back to Adam.

"What's that look for?" I asked him.

"I don't know where you get your ideas sometimes," he said.

"It's not such a crazy idea," I protested. "The stuff I've been reading says that the stallions are protective of their

herd. That would be the burros, too."

"So why do you say that they can't move on?" Adam asked me.

"Well," I considered, "They feel safe now. They have our horses for company. And they don't have any crazy people

chasing them with helicopters."

"They're wild animals, squirt. Not domesticated," Daniel pointed out.

"I know," I said, looking to him.

"Wild horses, and that includes the burros, aren't meant to be on a ranch," Adam said, and I turned back to him again, feeling

as though I was at a tennis match, turning my head from side to side.

"They're not really on the ranch, though," I pointed out. Reasonably, I felt.

"You just said they were," Adam said, sounding irritated.

"Well, but they're just hanging around," I said.

Adam shook his head, as if I was talking nonsense, and pushed up the visor, as we came into the city limits of Murphys.

"They're not hurting anything, Adam," I said, my tone more pleading now.

"Alright, Harlie," Adam said, putting a close to the topic. "Conversation's done."

I had to force myself to keep still. I wanted to keep discussing it. Keep picking at Adam, until he came around to

my view of things. But, I wasn't sure just where his view ended. Telling me to 'leave the burros be'. And then telling me

the conversation was over, without really answering my statement about them not hurting anything.

7


	54. Words

Once in town, Adam parked the truck in front of the feed store. When we all got out, Adam handed me some money. A twenty dollar bill,

and a ten dollar bill.

Then he asked me to go and get the items on the grocery list, which he pulled out of his pocket, all crumpled.

"When you're finished, just wait out front, and we'll swing down and pick you up," he told me.

"Okay," I agreed.

Daniel said he was walking over to the bank, and that he'd meet Adam, to help load the feed in a few minutes. Before he left to cross

the street, Daniel pulled out his wallet, and took another ten out and handed it to me.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"Just in case you don't have enough for everything on the list," Daniel said.

I gave him a puzzled look. "Huh?" I asked, confused.

"Just take it and get going," he said then. And, walking away, he called over his shoulder, "Get some ice cream!"

I was still puzzling over what he'd meant by giving me the extra money, but when I was all done with the shopping, and ready to pay, I did

have to use six or seven dollars of Daniel's ten.

The store wasn't so busy at that time, so Marcie, the checker, helped me tote the five sacks outside, and sat

on the bench, talking for a few minutes. She mostly wanted to ask questions about Daniel, so I didn't kid myself that she

really wanted to talk with me, as much as it was to wait so she could possibly say hello to Daniel. But, I sat down on the bench, too,

not really caring. I like Marcie alright, and it was nice to talk to somebody instead of just sitting there.

When I saw the truck coming, I stood up, picking up two of the bags. Adam pulled up, and parked, getting out and

leaving his door open.

He said hello to Marcie, and went to pick up more of the bags.

Marcie helpfully picked up a bag, too, and began chatting Daniel up.

Adam was putting the bags into the bed of the pickup, next to the sacks of feed. I held one bag back.

"This one ought to be up front out of the sun," I told Adam. "It's got the cheese and ice cream and stuff in it."

"Alright," Adam said. He and I got into the truck cab, and I held the bag of the cold stuff on my lap. We waited for

Daniel, who was standing on the sidewalk, talking with Marcie. We sat there for a couple of minutes, and

Adam sighed. I don't think he even realized that he'd done it. I gave him a sidelong glance. He looked tired.

"Lover boy, huh?" I said lightly, gesturing towards Daniel thru the windshield.

"Broken hearts wherever he goes," Adam said jokingly.

Finally, Daniel got back in with us, holding the bag he'd taken from Marcie.

"Let's get some lunch at Marie's," Daniel said, as Adam started the engine.

"Aw, I don't know-" Adam began, and I knew he was thinking of all the work that needed doing at home.

"Come on," Daniel coaxed. "Lunch is on me."

Adam hesitated a few more moments, but then he agreed, so we drove to the café.

"We should put this bag in Marie's fridge, so everything doesn't spoil, or melt," I said, holding onto the sack.

We went in, and there was already quite a crowd for lunch time.

Marie called out a greeting to us, and we all waved at her.

Daniel gestured to a booth near the back, and Adam and I followed him. I slid in and Daniel sat beside me, with Adam across

the table.

When Marie came over to take our order, Adam stood up, and she gave him a hug. When Daniel stood up, Marie gave him an

extra long hug.

"What can I get for the McFaddens today?" she asked cheerily.

"What's the special today?" Daniel asked.

"Meatloaf and potatoes, and green beans," Marie rattled off. "And blackberry cobbler for dessert."

"Three?" Daniel asked, looking at Adam and then at me.

Both Adam and I nodded, and Marie took our drinks down, as well.

"Can you put this in the refrigerator?" I asked her.

"You bet," Marie said, and took the sack of groceries from me. The other waitress, a girl I didn't recognize, brought us our

drinks. Iced tea for Daniel and I, and coffee for Adam.

"Crowded in here today," Daniel said.

I was glad we weren't all that near to the booth that Doc G and I had always sat in.

There were a couple of our neighbors there as well, and they came over to our table on their way out. After shaking hands

with Adam, and with Daniel, Mr. Weaver began talking about what he'd heard of the sheriff's department.

"We had a ruckus at our place the other evening," Mr. Weaver said, and went on to say that some of their fences had

been cut. The conversation went on, about how the sheriff had sent a deputy out.

"Heard they've got a lead, though," Mr. Weaver went on. "Hopefully, they can settle it all soon."

When Adam asked what the lead was, Mr. Weaver said he wasn't sure, only that he'd heard they had one.

They stood there and talked until the young waitress brought over our plates of food.

While we were eating, the bell over the door announced somebody else coming in. There was a raised voice, overly

loud, even over all the other diners talking.

I half-turned, thinking I recognized the voice. And there he was. Freaky Frank. Kristin's stepfather.

He was sitting at one of the stools at the counter, and Marie set a cup of something in front of him. He got louder and

louder, until everybody in the café was giving him looks. His loudness didn't really seem to have anything to do with

a specific issue. Just being loud in general.

I saw Adam flick a glance at Frank, and I said, in a low voice, "That's Frank." I knew that although Adam had heard plenty about

Frank, he'd never actually seen him.

Adam looked again, and said, "Hmm."

"Who's Frank?" Daniel asked.

"Kristin's stepfather," I told him.

I gave a couple of more backward glances at Frank. I didn't think I was being obvious about it, but apparently Adam thought differently.

"Harlie, turn around and eat," Adam ordered.

I turned around and began on my potatoes again. "He's drunk, as usual," I said.

"Shush," Adam said.

Frank finished whatever he was drinking, coffee, I think, and went outside. He was hesitating on the sidewalk, right in my line of

sight. He seemed sort of unsteady, and disoriented. Then he ambled on.

When we were beginning on our cobbler, of which I decided to have a piece, Adam said, unexpectedly,

"What's up with Kristin?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She's quiet, and all, but I do still notice when there's an extra person around for a week straight."

"Oh." I laid my fork on my plate, finished with my cobbler. "Well, her mom let Frank come back."

"Mmm," he said.

"So she doesn't want to be there," I went on.

"Is that common?" Daniel asked. "For him to be drunk like that?"

I realized that, with Daniel being gone last year, he didn't know all the details about Kristen's situation like the

rest of us did.

"Ninety-eight percent of the time, he's like that," I said.

"That's rough," Daniel said, in sympathy. "I thought she just liked hanging out at our house."

"She does," I assured him. "She loves being at our house."

Adam just looked thoughtful, and went on eating his cobbler.

I didn't know if this was the right time to approach it or not, or if I even should. Maybe I should wait for Crane

to talk to Adam about it.

Still, I thought I'd at least plant the idea in his mind.

"She'd like to stay for awhile longer," I said, and took a drink of my tea, meeting Adam's eyes over the top of

my glass.

He met my eyes, but didn't say anything. He pushed his empty plate away, and looked to Daniel.

"You both ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah," Daniel said, and pulled out some dollar bills for the tip. He left them on the table and then went to

the register to pay the check.

Marie went to the back to retrieve our sack of groceries, and handed it off to Daniel.

The ride home was fairly quiet. Once there I slid out with the bag, and reached into the back for another of the lighter

ones. I saw Daniel tuck something into the pocket of Adam's shirt, and saw Adam take it right back out again.

"No, Daniel," he said, in a firm tone.

He tucked the mystery object back into Daniel's pocket.

"I can do it," Daniel said quietly. "Let me help."

"No."

"Bein' stubborn, Adam," Daniel said.

Adam didn't respond to that, and Daniel said, low, "Come on."

"Not now. Maybe later," Adam said, and I saw Daniel nod, and he came over to lift some of the bags out of the

back.

Well, I thought back to how Daniel had given me an extra ten for the store earlier. I'd bet on it being money just now

that Daniel had tried to get Adam to take.

I bit at my lip, thinking. As we all three carried groceries into the house, I decided to keep my eyes and ears open. Daniel and Adam

went on back outside to work, and I put all the groceries away.

After that, I went upstairs in search of Kristin. She was in Hannah's bedroom, sitting on the bed while Hannah dressed

Isaac. The baby's hair was damp.

They both said hi to me as I came in.

"How is he?" I asked, reaching out to touch Isaac's hand.

"He's just fine. Kristin just got done giving him his bath," Hannah said.

Kristin's face was all lit up. "I never got to do that before. Give a baby a bath, I mean."

"Did he splash water all over you?" I asked her.

"Not too much."

"How was the grocery store?" Hannah asked me.

"Alright. I put everything away."

"Thanks, sweetie," Hannah told me. "Did you get some lunch?"

"We ate at Marie's."

"Good," she said.

"Do you have anything for us to do?" I asked her.

"I think we've got everything pretty well done," Hannah said. "Why don't you two go and enjoy yourselves the rest

of the afternoon? Go swimming at the creek, or something."

"Okay. Thanks, Hannah," I said. "Come on, Kris."

Kristin stood up, and we went out into the hallway.

"You think maybe Guthrie could go swimming, too?" she asked me, looking hopeful.

"Maybe," I said. "We can find him and see."

We both changed into older t shirts and cut-off shorts, and went outside on the porch.

Guthrie, leaning out of the hayloft of the barn, yelled out to us.

We waved back, and went to stand directly under. "Can you go swimming with us?" Kristin called up to him.

"I dunno. Maybe in an hour or so," Guthrie called back.

"What's in an hour?" a voice behind us spoke out. Adam.

"We're going to the creek to cool off," I told him. "We just wondered if Guthrie could go, too."

Adam looked up towards Guthrie. "Go on, Guth," he said.

"Yeah?" Guthrie asked, looking surprised, and then happy.

"Yeah, go on," Adam said.

Guthrie, still standing and leaning precariously out the door of the loft, gave a whoop and disappeared,

coming out a few moments later.

"I'll get changed," he said, in a run toward the house.

We stood there for a couple of moments, the three of us.

"Keep your eyes open and watch for snakes," Adam said.

I said okay, and Adam turned his gaze to Kristin. "Let's have a talk tonight. Alright?"

Kristin instantly became nervous. I could tell by the way she answered him.

"Yes. Okay," she said.

"Okay," he said, and then he smiled at both of us. "Have fun," he told us, and walked on, into the barn.

Kristin looked nearly panic-stricken, and I said, trying to sound reassuring, "Don't be worried."

"He looks so serious-maybe he's mad at me-" Kristin said.

"He's not mad at you," I said, with certainty. "He just wants to talk about you staying here."

"Oh," she said, still sounding nervous.

I was telling her how we'd seen Frank come into the café earlier that day, and how I'd pointed him out to Adam.

"Was he drunk?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. It seemed like he was."

Guthrie burst out of the house, running towards his truck. "Come on!" he yelled to us.

We ran to climb in. "Why aren't we walking?" I asked.

"Just thought we'd drive partway at least," he said.

We bounced along the bumpy road-path towards the creek, parking at the usual stopping point, and

walking the rest of the way. We all dived into the water as soon as we got there, and Guthrie began his

swings and drops from the rope. He coaxed Kristin to swing off, too, but I was content, floating around in

the old inner tube that we leave there. Ford showed up some time later, and then Daniel.

After that there was a whole bunch of hollering and dunking each other, and laughing. We played chicken,

with Kristin on Guthrie's shoulders, and me on Ford's. After awhile, I was floating in the inner tube again,

while Ford, Guthrie and Kristin were swinging and dropping off the rope again. Daniel was floating on his

back in the water beside me.

His eyes were closed and I splashed him. "Wake up," I teased.

"I'm awake," he said, still keeping his eyes closed.

I used my arms to paddle over closer to him. "Daniel?"

"Hmm?"

"I had to use about seven dollars out of that ten you gave me this morning."

"It's fine."

"I'll give you back the other three dollars later," I said.

"You can keep it," he said.

"Ok." I paddled around some more, ending up on the other side of him.

"How come you did that?" I asked him, sort of quietly.

"How come I did what?" he asked, eyes still closed.

"Gave me the extra ten."

"I just thought you might need it." He opened his eyes, and came over, resting his arms on one side of

the inner tube, which nearly made it tip over.

I squealed at that, and he laughed, and splashed water all up into my face.

I slipped down thru the center of the tube, and came up on the other side, resting my arms on the side opposite

of Daniel.

"Were you trying to give Adam money?" I asked him then.

Daniel gave me a squint-eyed look. He didn't answer immediately, just gave me that look. I knew he wasn't

happy because I was asking him about it. I also knew he hadn't known I'd seen what had happened between him and Adam.

"Are things bad, money-wise?" I persisted.

Still no answer from Daniel. Which, in itself, was a plain enough answer. He would surely have just said so, if there weren't

money issues within the family. Or so it seemed to me, anyway.

"I'm just worried, Daniel," I said, wanting that look to pass off of his face.

"Things are okay," he said.

"Then, why-" I began, insistently.

"Just drop it," Daniel said. He didn't say it roughly, but it wasn't said exactly gently, either.

I really dislike it when I'm treated like a baby, as though I don't need to know things, or couldn't understand them. Usually,

Daniel doesn't do that sort of thing. He most generally talks to me as though I'm worthy of understanding.

To say that I was hurt by his response would have been accurate.

"Okay," I said, though I didn't really mean 'okay'. I swam away from him with choppy strokes, adding in an

undertone, "Fine," in a sarcastic way.

"Hey," Daniel said to me, his tone challenging. "Don't be like that."

I kept swimming, toward the bank of the creek. "I'm not being like anything," I answered, without turning around.

I got out of the water, stretching out on the grass, where the sun shone thru the trees.

Daniel stayed in the water, swimming over to join the others at the rope. I watched them for awhile, taking turns,

and the sun was so warm that I began to feel drowsy. The sort of drowsy that's so comfortable that all you want to do is

close your eyes and go with it.

Eventually, Guthrie and Kristin got out and came over to lounge beside me on the grass.

"Let's go get pizza tonight," Guthrie suggested. "Maybe go bowling."

"I have to talk to Adam," Kristin reminded him, sounding nervous again.

"That won't take long," Guthrie said, in easy dismissal. He gave me a poke in the side. "You wanna go, Har?"

"I don't have very much money," I said.

"I'll pay," he said, sounding like Evan had the day before.

I shrugged, thinking that I wouldn't go anywhere if I didn't have brothers willing to pay.

"Maybe," I said.

"Aw, come on," Guthrie coaxed.

I wanted to say that he and Kristin didn't need me along on a date, but I knew both Guthrie and Kristin would

protest at that.

I looked around to see if Daniel was within earshot. He and Ford were still standing on the wooden plank, above the water,

so I said, "There's something going on, with money," I said.

I briefly explained what I'd seen pass between Adam and Daniel earlier, and how Daniel had put me off when I asked

about it.

"Hmm," Guthrie said, looking concerned. "Maybe it's just because Daniel wants to help out."

"Maybe."

"You know he does that sometimes," Guthrie went on. "Gives money, I mean."

Daniel had jumped into the water, and was swimming our way, and Ford was swinging out on the rope.

"Don't say anything about it," I said, in a low tone so Daniel wouldn't overhear.

Guthrie went back to talking about going bowling, and Ford, when he reached the creek bank, and sank down, pushing his

hair back, said, "I'll go. Haven't gotten to go bowling in a while."

I sat back while they kept talking about it, and kept still.

After awhile of sitting in the sun, we all started hiking back towards Guthrie's truck.

At the truck, Kristin slid in and Guthrie got behind the steering wheel.

"You ridin', Har?" Guthrie asked me.

Before I could say yes, Daniel spoke over me. "You all go on. She's gonna walk with me."

"Who says I am?" I returned smartly, but Guthrie must have thought I was joking, because he

laughed, and said, "You wanna ride up, Ford?"

So Ford climbed in, and they pulled off, going around Daniel and I with a joking honking of the horn.

Daniel looked at me, his expression questioning. I looked away, and started walking, carrying my tennis shoes in

my right hand.

"What's the matter?" Daniel asked, walking after me.

I gave him an "I can't believe you' type of look, and then looked straight ahead again.

"What's that look for?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said.

I heard Daniel sigh. "What's up with the pissy attitude?" he asked me.

"Now you're saying I have a pissy attitude?" I said, stopping walking, and staring at him.

Daniel stopped, too. Suddenly, he didn't look so cautious, and his tone wasn't so conciliatory.

"Yeah. That's right. That's exactly what I'm sayin'," he said.

"Wow," I said. For a minute, I just couldn't believe Daniel.

"Now you're just being mean," I told him.

"Mean, huh?" he said slowly, repeating my words as if he was double-checking what I'd said. I was sorry then that

I'd said that.

Even if I was irritated at Daniel, I didn't want to argue with him. He would be gone soon, back to Tennessee, and then I knew I'd be

remembering this moment, and wishing I could take it back, because I'd be missing him so much.

"I guess I am being pissy," I said, with a sigh.

Daniel gave me a long, considering look.

"I was worried about the whole money thing," I said. "That's all."

"Alright," he said. "I get that." He started walking again, and I went to catch up with him.

I waited for him to continue on, and tell me what was going on with finances, and why he'd been offering Adam money.

But, he didn't continue on. He just kept walking, not saying anything more.

"So?" I prompted him.

"So, what?" he asked.

"Aren't you gonna tell me about the money stuff?"

Daniel stopped walking again, so quickly that I was several steps ahead of him before I even realized that he'd stopped.

I turned to look back at him. The sun was so bright that I put my hand up, to shade my eyes.

"What the heck is with you?" Daniel demanded.

"What?" I asked, puzzled.

"I told you to drop it, that it wasn't anything to worry about, and you're still goin' on about it," Daniel said.

He sounded miffed, even mad, and when I stepped closer, still shading my eyes, I saw that he looked mad, too.

"Daniel-" I began.

"You don't think you have to listen, is that it?" he accused.

"I know I have to listen," I said, suddenly feeling unsure. This whole conversation with Daniel had taken a wrong turn.

"Sure couldn't tell that you know it, from the way you're actin'," Daniel said.

I tried to defend myself then. "You're treating me like I'm a baby," I said.

I'd meant because he wouldn't talk to me about the money situation. Daniel thought I meant because of the way

he was talking to me now, getting onto me and all.

"Should we have a different sort of a talk?" Daniel said then, and I didn't like the way his eyes narrowed

at me.

"No," I said quickly.

He was giving me such an intense look that I took a step back. A fact which I knew that he didn't miss.

"I was just worried," I said, trying to explain.

"And I told you I understand that. I'm not tryin' to be mysterious, or anything like that. If there was somethin' you

need to know, then Adam would tell you. No need for you to act like a brat when you don't get your way," he said.

I stood, stunned by his words, words that were on the cusp of being said harshly.

"Okay," I said, feeling as though I was going to start crying embarrassed tears.

Daniel hesitated, studying me, as if to judge whether I was really hearing what he'd said.

His face softened a little, and I could tell he felt badly about our stress-filled conversation.

"Ready to walk back?" he asked, nodding towards the path.

I would have liked to have stalked off, away from him, or told him outright that I didn't want to be around him

right at that particular moment. But I lacked the nerve.

So I nodded, just barely, and started walking with him.

7


	55. Tears from any source

Daniel and I didn't talk the rest of the way back up to the house. About halfway back, I stepped on a burr in the grass, and I halted,

lifting my foot and brushing at the bottom of it. I could still feel the pain of the prickles, so I dropped my shoes to the ground, and rubbed

at my foot some more.

Daniel paused, and turned back, waiting on me. He didn't say anything, though. I finally stuffed my feet back into my shoes,

not even putting them on correctly, but just walking so that my heels were hanging over the back of them. And then we walked on.

Back at the house, it was nearly suppertime. We were having tacos and cottage cheese, and stuff from the garden. Tomatoes,

and radishes, and all of that.

Guthrie was talking about going bowling, and Brian and Clare decided to go, too. So it became sort of a family event at

that point. Evan said he and Nancy had other plans, but everybody else said they were going except for Daniel, and Crane, and Adam and

Hannah. I'd thought that Hannah had looked as though she'd like to go, too, and I said, "You should go, Hannah. I'll

watch the baby."

"Oh, sweetie, that's so nice of you-" she began.

"There you go," Adam said, from his end of the table. "An offer of a great babysitter."

Hannah flicked him a glance, and then said, "Well, but don't you want to go, too, Harlie?"

I shook my head. "No, it's alright. I don't mind watching Isaac."

"We could take him along," she said, looking at me, and then at Adam again. "That way Harlie could go, too."

"It's too full of smoke there for him, with everybody smoking," Adam reminded her.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot." She looked thoughtful. "I don't think you should stay home by yourself, though. Not with

everything that's happened lately. Those guys that were here could come back-"

"I'll be around," Crane spoke up, from where he was rinsing off his plate at the sink.

"No more excuses," Adam said, with a grin for her.

"Okay," Hannah agreed, and gave me a grateful smile. "Thanks, sweetie."

"No problem," I said, getting up to take my own plate to the sink.

After that, when everybody was getting up, and pushing their chairs up to the table, and Ford began running hot

water in the sink to wash the dishes, Adam spoke up.

Adam had kept his seat, and motioned with his hand. "Come sit down here beside me for a minute, Kristin."

Kristin gave me a quick glance, and wiped her hands on her jeans nervously. She went to sit down in the seat that

Brian had just vacated.

Guthrie immediately went to stand near to the back of her chair, and Adam gave him a look somewhere between

irritation and resignation, as if he knew that Guthrie would be right in the middle of the conversation.

"Sit down, Guthrie," he said, and then looked down the table to me, where I was standing, a stack of plates

in my hand.

"You too, sugar. Sit down."

I went to sit next to Adam, opposite of Kristin and Guthrie.

The kitchen quieted down a bit. Daniel and Evan left the room, and Ford and Clare began washing and drying the dishes.

Hannah stayed in her chair, and Brian leaned against the refrigerator, listening. Crane was still sitting in his spot at the table

as well.

"I hear you want to stay around here for a bit," Adam said to Kristin.

Kristin nodded, still looking a little scared. "Yes."

"How come?" Adam asked then, sort of quietly.

Guthrie broke in. "Crane told you why, didn't you, Crane?" he asked, looking over at Crane.

"Yeah, Crane told me," Adam said, and gave Guthrie another of those looks. This one more pointed. "I want

Kristin to tell me." He turned back to Kristin. "Kristin?"

"It's because of Frank. My mom took him back," Kristin said. "I just-hate being around him."

"Does your mom know you've been staying here?" Adam asked.

"I told her I was spending the night here," Kristin said, looking uncomfortable.

"Tonight?" Adam asked, looking confused.

"No. Last week," Kristin said. "When I first came over here."

"What about all the nights since then?" Adam asked.

"I haven't talked to her," Kristin admitted.

Adam's expression got all stern then.

Crane spoke up from across the table. "I didn't know that, Kris. You didn't tell me that when we talked earlier."

Kristin's face reddened. "I guess I thought it didn't matter-" she began, looking at Crane. I could tell she was pretty

shook by Crane's disappointed demeanor. She likes Crane a lot.

"Of course it matters," Adam said.

"It's not as though her mom doesn't know where she is," Guthrie protested, in Kristin's defense. "It's not like she's

a runaway, or somethin'."

"And it's not like her mom has tried to call Kristin, either," I added in.

"If you two are gonna sit into this conversation, then those sort of comments aren't helpful," Adam said.

I immediately subsided, determining to keep my mouth shut. I wasn't so certain about Guthrie, though.

"I wasn't trying to be deceptive, or anything like that," Kristin said, looking at Adam, and then Crane, and

then even behind her, to Brian.

"Well, you need to give your mom a call. Make sure she's alright with you spending a few more nights here," Adam

told her.

A few more nights? That wasn't exactly what Guthrie, and Kristin and I had wanted. We were thinking more along the

lines of weeks, or so.

"She's probably at work," Kristin said, in a weak protest. She sounded dejected, and I knew that she was

wondering about Adam's 'few more nights' comment, as well.

"She still working at the same place?" Adam asked. "The clothing store?"

At Kristin's nod, he said, "Well, call there then. Or call her when we get home from bowling tonight. But, whenever you do

get her on the phone, I want to talk to her once you're done. Alright?"

"Yes," Kristin answered.

"If she doesn't mind you being here all this time, and she tells me that when I talk to her, then you can stay."

Immediately, Kristin brightened. "Thank you!"

"I don't think it has to be a big, formal thing about it, though. Right now, let's just leave it at this, you spendin' some time

here. It doesn't have to be set in stone that it's permanent, or anything like that. Just more that you're stayin' with us, like you have

lots of times. Okay?"

"Yes, Adam," Kristin said, really quietly.

"Okay." He looked from Kristin, to Crane and Brian. "You guys got anything to add to this?"

Brian shook his head. "Nope."

Crane looked pensive, thoughtful. I thought he was going to say something to Kristin then, but he only

shook his head. "No."

After that, Adam said, "Well," in a dismissal sort of way, and stood up. Hannah followed him, and Brian went over

to help Clare dry the dishes as Ford washed.

Crane got up, too, going to refill his cup of coffee.

"Come on," Guthrie said, to both Kristin and I. We all stood up, but Kristin hesitated. "Should I talk to Crane?" she

asked, sounding unsure.

Crane had gone outside with his cup of coffee, and was leaning against the door.

"He's not mad," Guthrie said.

"I think I should talk to him," Kristin persisted. "Do you think so, Harlie?"

"Probably," I agreed.

Kristin took a deep breath, and headed towards the door going outside.

When Guthrie moved, as if to follow her, I tugged on his arm.

"You should let her talk to him by herself," I said. "It's between her and Crane. And besides, if she's gonna

stay around, and be like one of us, then she needs to do her own talking sometimes."

Guthrie gave a sigh. "Yeah," he said. "That's probably right."

7

As they all got changed and ready to go bowling, I brought some of Isaac's baby toys downstairs, and spread

a big blanket on the floor, getting ready for the evening ahead.

At one point, Adam caught me, and asked, "Sure you don't mind stayin' home tonight with Scooter?"

"I'm sure," I assured him.

"Well, I appreciate it," he said. "It'll do Hannah good to get out."

I nodded in agreement, and he reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He took out

a five dollar bill, and held it out to me.

"Not much for a whole night of babysitting," he said.

"It's okay," I said, not reaching for the money. "You don't have to pay me."

"I say I do," he said, in a mock gruff tone. "Now take it."

I took the five from him. "Thanks, Adam."

"The cattle will be going to market in a couple of days," he went on. "After they're sold, you'll have some

money from that."

I nodded. "I'll use some of it for my school clothes," I told him.

"Well, we'll see," he said. "It might be that we can manage those for you."

I thought back to earlier, when Daniel had pressed Adam to take some cash. I still thought, though Daniel hadn't

seen fit to enlighten me, that there might be money troubles brewing.

"I'm nearly grown," I told him. "You shouldn't have to be paying for everything I need."

For a moment, Adam looked somewhat amused. "Nearly grown, huh?" he asked me, his eyes twinkling a little.

"Uh huh," I said.

"Well, we'll see," he said again. He kissed the top of my head, and went off upstairs, no doubt to change his shirt.

7

When they'd all gone, piled into several vehicles, headed for Angels Camp, Crane sort of took a deep breath, and

let it out. "Wow. Some peace and quiet," he said.

I snuggled Isaac closer. "Unless Isaac decides to get rowdy," I said jokingly.

Crane leaned in close and tickled Isaac. "You're not going to do that, are you, Scooter?"

The baby chortled in glee at Crane's attention, and grabbed at Crane's finger.

Daniel, who was sitting on the end of one of the couches, said, "How come no date with the beautiful teacher tonight?"

"She's out of town," Crane said, in reply.

The three of us played a game of Uno, while Isaac grabbed for the cards.

"Draw four," Daniel said, with a triumphant grin at Crane, as he laid down the card.

"Hmm," Crane said, and began to draw four cards from the pile.

It was while he was doing that, that we could hear a vehicle engine from outside, and the sound of

a door slamming.

"Somebody's home," Daniel said.

"Surely not yet," Crane said.

There was a knock at the front door then. "I'll get it," Daniel said, and got up, going towards the door and

opening it.

I had shifted Isaac, who was getting heavy, to my other shoulder.

"Hey, Daniel," I heard someone say.

"Hey, Kenny," Daniel responded.

Kenny. I was surprised. We hadn't seen hide nor hair of Kenny for weeks, ever since he and Guthrie had had the

argument because Kenny wouldn't stay around to face Adam and Brian.

"Guthrie 'round?" I heard Kenny ask.

"Naw. He's in town. Bowling," Daniel said.

"Oh."

"Come on in," Daniel said, stepping aside and opening the door wider.

"Aw, that's okay. I oughta be goin'," Kenny was saying.

Crane had gotten up, and gone over to the doorway as well.

"Hey, Crane."

"Kenny," Crane greeted him.

"I was just gonna talk to Guthrie," Kenny went on, talking fast. "But Daniel says he's not home."

"No," Crane said. "Come on in, though."

"I can't really stay long," Kenny was protesting, though he came into the house, and Daniel let the screen door

shut behind him. He stood there, shifting from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

I sat where I was, still at the card table where we'd been playing cards.

"Hi, Harlie," Kenny said.

"Hullo, Kenny," I responded. It was awkward, I'll say that. My opinion of Kenny was pretty darn low. I was still sure

that he'd been up to things. And that there was a reason why Warrior had nearly bitten him. Still, a part of me, a small

part, felt sorry for Kenny. He just looked so darn uncomfortable, and almost sort of lost, standing there.

"How's your dad?" Crane was asking him.

"He's doin' some better. He's been goin' to his treatments and all. He gets pretty sick after he has one of those."

"Mmm," Crane said, with a nod.

"He sure appreciated the help you and Ford gave him the other day," Kenny was saying.

"That's alright," Crane said.

I wondered about that. I hadn't known that Crane and Ford had gone over to Kenny's house to help out.

There was a moment or so of silence, and then Crane put a hand on Kenny's shoulder. "How about a piece of pie?"

he offered, turning to walk back into the living room.

"No, thanks," Kenny refused. "I better be goin'."

"Guthrie ought to be around tomorrow, if you wanna talk to him then," Daniel was saying.

"Sure. Alright, thanks," Kenny said. He paused at the door to look back, towards Daniel and Crane. "Can I talk to Harlie for a minute?" he asked.

To say I was shocked would be correct. I couldn't imagine what Kenny would want to talk to me about. It wasn't as though

we were on good terms. But I knew that he wouldn't be trying to start an argument or fuss with me. Not with Daniel and Crane

right nearby. And besides, Kenny looked, well, he looked beat-down. I didn't think he was really up to fussing with

anyone at that moment.

Crane looked towards me. "I guess that's up to Harlie," he said. "It's alright with me."

I hesitated. I had to admit, I was a little curious. I stood up, and Crane reached out to take the baby from me.

As I passed by Daniel, and went out onto the front porch, and Kenny followed, reaching to pull the door closed, Daniel said, "We'll leave the door open."

He said it casually, but he said it. I knew what he meant, and I knew that Kenny knew, too.

I paused, gesturing to the porch swing. "Want to sit down?" I offered.

"Can we walk?" he asked.

"I guess," I said.

"Just a little ways," Kenny said, as if to reassure me.

"Okay," I said, thinking that he was acting more like the 'old' Kenny.

So we went down the steps, and began walking towards the corral. I leaned against the rails, and turned to

look at him. The light of the yard pole light shone pretty brightly, plus the lights on the front porch that Daniel had left on.

I waited. Kenny sat down on the bale of hay near the gate, a few feet from where I stood.

He sighed, and just sat there, looking out into the dark of the pasture. Jethro Bodine came up, sniffing at Kenny, who

reached out to rub the dog's ears.

"Where's your dog?" he asked then, referring, I knew, to Warrior.

I wondered if he was trying to start an argument then. "He's around," I said shortly.

"I'm surprised he's not over here, tryin' to take a chunk out of me again," Kenny said. But his tone wasn't

combative. He just sounded tired.

I thought about saying something smart-aleky, like did Warrior have a good reason for doing that before? But I didn't. I

kept still. Watching Kenny and waiting.

When the silence finally became too long for my patience, I said, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I dunno really," Kenny said, with a shrug. "There's a lot to say, but I don't know if I'm up to it."

Now, I really was mystified. What was he talking about?

"You been doin' a lot this summer?" he asked then. "Goin' out?"

"Not really."

"Yeah. Me, neither," he said.

There was silence again.

"You think Guthrie will talk to me?" he finally spoke.

"I don't know," I said, in honesty. "He was really angry."

"Yeah," Kenny said, with a sigh.

"All you can do is try," I said.

I don't know why, exactly, but Kenny looked so down, so worked over, that I offered up some hope.

"Guthrie cares about you. You guys have been friends for a long time," I said.

"Since we were five," Kenny said, looking up at me.

"Yeah."

"I've been a jerk to you, Harlie," he said, unexpectedly. "I'm sorry about it."

I hesitated. Kenny had been a jerk so many times this summer. Which 'it' was he talking about?

"Yeah," I said, quietly, in agreement. I didn't know what to say exactly. It wasn't just the verbal fighting that Kenny and I

had done. It wasn't the making out he'd attempted in the basement with me. I still thought there was something about he and

Warrior that didn't add up. That was the major issue, as far as I was concerned.

And then, with a such a suddenness that I didn't see it coming, Kenny covered his face with his hands, and sort of bent over, and

began to cry. Not cry. Sobbing. He was sobbing.

I didn't have a clue what to do. Yet I could not just stand there.

I went over and sat down on the bale of hay beside Kenny. I patted his back.

"What is it?" I tried asking.

There was no response. Only sobbing.

I'd never seen a boy cry that way before. It was a little disconcerting, to be honest. And Kenny, of all people? Kenny was

happy go lucky, cocky, confident, smart-alecky.

"Kenny," I said softly, trying to reach him. "What is it?"

Kenny mumbled some things, but I couldn't make head nor tails of it.

"I'll be right back," I said, and stood up.

Kenny made an attempt to curtail his sobs. "Stay," I heard him say.

"I'll be back. You stay right here," I ordered, trying to sound authoritative.

And then, I ran back across the yard to the house, and up the front steps. I was running so quickly that I nearly stumbled

over a step. I went inside. Isaac was sleeping in his bassinet beside the couch, and I could hear voices coming from the kitchen.

I burst thru the doors to the kitchen, breathless. Daniel and Crane were dishing up heaping bowls of ice cream, and Daniel was

swirling chocolate syrup over the top of his.

"Hey, squirt," Daniel said. "Grab some before it's gone."

I stopped, and they both looked at me in startled curiousity.

"Crane," I managed, before I had to stop to talk another breath.

"What's wrong?" Crane asked, looking immediately concerned.

"It's Kenny," I said.

Crane came over closer to where I stood. "What about Kenny?"

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the oddity and emotion of the whole thing, seeing Kenny like that.

"Oh, Crane, it's awful!" I burst out. "He's crying! And he won't stop!"

"Crying? Why?" Crane asked, as Daniel came over to stand beside us, still holding his bowl of ice cream.

"I don't know, he can't even talk without crying! Will you come?"

"Yeah," Crane said, and as he walked quickly thru the living room, and outside, I followed, and Daniel came along,

though he paused at the front door.

I saw that Kenny had moved from his spot on the bale of hay to get into the cab of his truck. He hadn't started the motor. He was

just sitting there.

I hung back, watching as Crane went over to the truck, and put his hands on the rolled-down window frame.

It seemed that Kenny wasn't crying so hard right now. I could hear Crane saying something, really low, and Kenny's

quiet reply. And then Crane opened the door to the truck.

"Let's go inside," he said.

Kenny mumbled something I couldn't hear. It must have been a protest, because Crane said, "It's alright. We can talk. Come on, Kenny."

I hadn't realized that I was holding my breath, until I saw Kenny step out of the truck.

7


	56. The OBH

Once we were all up the front steps of the house, me following after Crane and Kenny, and then Daniel closing the door

behind all of us, well, then, Crane said to Kenny, "Sit down." He motioned to one of the couches.

Kenny went to sit down quick enough. He wasn't sobbing any longer. Just more sniffling, and breathing sort of ragged, like you

do when you're trying to stop crying. He kept his face turned away, and I figured that he was really embarrassed.

"I'm going to grab a cup of coffee," Crane said, in an off-hand way. "How about a glass of sweet tea, Kenny?"

Kenny sort of bobbed his head in answer, and Crane turned to head to the kitchen, nodding at me to follow along.

So I did, and Daniel did, too.

Once in the kitchen, Crane went about the task of starting a fresh pot of coffee.

"Are you going to talk to him?" I asked, quietly, coming up beside Crane.

"I'm going to try."

He switched on the coffee pot, and looked down at me. "Why don't you take Scooter and go on upstairs?"

I knew that was Crane's way of saying that he thought Kenny was embarrassed enough, and that any talking might

go better if it was just he and Kenny.

I nodded in agreement, and began fixing a bottle for Isaac, so that I wouldn't have to come back downstairs later.

Daniel began making himself a huge sandwich, layered with cheese and turkey slices, tomatoes and sweet pickles.

As I was putting the top on the bottle for the baby, Daniel asked me if I wanted a sandwich, as well.

"No, thanks," I said.

Crane was heading back into the living room, carrying a cup of coffee and the glass of tea for Kenny.

I went along behind him, and went over to the bassinet to scoop up the still-sleeping Isaac.

Kenny, who seemed quieter, said, "He's sure gettin' big," to me.

"Yeah," I agreed. Our eyes met for just a split second or so. Kenny looked, for lack of any better words, like death warmed

over.

"I'll see you," I said to him, not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah. See ya, Harlie," he responded, ducking his head and looking away from me.

Crane gave me a half-smile as I headed up the stairs, with my arms full of the baby.

Instead of going to my own room, I took Isaac to Hannah and Adam's bedroom, and laid him in his crib. I covered

him with a baby blanket, and set the bottle of milk on the dresser, in case he woke up later.

Then I went to my room, and got into my pajamas, and grabbed the book I'd been reading. I went back to their room,

and propped myself up on pillows, laying on top of the quilt on the bed, and began to read.

It wasn't too long after, when Daniel appeared in the open doorway.

"Hey," he said, quietly.

"Hi," I said, looking up from my book.

He came on into the room, going to look into the crib at the baby, and then coming over to Hannah and Adam's bed.

"What're you readin'?" he asked me.

I turned the book so that he could see the title.

"'The Ladies of Missalonghi'," Daniel read.

"Uh huh."

"What's that about?" he asked.

"A town in Australia, a long time ago," I told him.

"Hmm."

"It's only been out for a couple of months," I went on.

Daniel nodded in response. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and I moved my feet slightly so that he had

more room.

"I wanna talk to you, squirt," he began, all quiet and serious.

I lowered the book to lay it beside me. "Okay," I said, not certain what he had planned to say. I was still feeling

a little hurt by his abruptness earlier at shutting down my questions.

"It's about earlier, when you were askin' me about the money stuff," he said.

I waited, biting at my lip a little, as he went on.

"It was ticking me off, the way you kept on, when I told you to stop," he said then.

So, this was another lecture? I tried not to let my frustration show on my face.

"I got that," I said, trying not to sound defensive, but apparently failing. "You don't have to tell me again."

Daniel sighed heavily, and gave me a pointed look. "There you go. Gettin' mad again."

"I'm not," I protested. "I'm just saying that I heard you."

"Okay." He sighed again. "The thing is, I'm feelin' as though I got a little rough about it. I need to try to

remember that you're here all the time, and you're old enough to see stuff that's goin' on."

At first I was relieved at Daniel's comment, his consensus that I had a right to know some things. Then I was

just as quickly struck by the worry.

"So, there is something wrong?" I asked him.

"Not wrong, exactly," he said. "Just not enough money for everything right now."

"Well, why?" I asked. "Nothing major has happened lately."

"Sometimes things just go in cycles, with money," Daniel said. Isaac made a couple of soft noises, and we both

looked toward the crib, waiting.

When it seemed as though the baby was going to stay asleep, Daniel went on. "The taxes are due, and all of that. And

the loss of the cows that were shot, that didn't help."

"Oh," I said, thinking.

"It takes a lot to keep things goin' around here," Daniel said.

"There are an awful lot of us," I said, and our eyes met. Daniel sort of smiled.

"Yeah. There sure are," he agreed.

"Maybe it will help, when the cattle are sold," I said. "Adam told me that was going to be soon."

Daniel nodded. "It will help, some."

I wrinkled my forehead at him, questioningly.

"There's overhead," he said then. "Bills to pay from the cattle, before there's any profit."

"Oh."

"Anyway," Daniel went on, "I wanted to talk to you about it. I could have told you then just as easy as I'm tellin' you now."

"It's okay," I said.

"It's nothin' for you to worry over," he added. "Just one of those low-tide money times around here."

"Okay," I said.

"I'm sorry I treated you like that," Daniel said. "As if you had no right to ask, and all."

Now, I was surprised. He meant it, too. I could tell by the way he was looking at me, his eyes all serious and

sort of questioning.

"It's okay," I said, again.

"So, we're good?" he asked me.

"Yeah. We're good."

He nodded. "Want some ice cream?" he asked.

"I think Crane wants it quiet down there while he talks to Kenny," I said.

"I'll go down the back stairs. I didn't get to finish my bowl of ice cream. I'm gonna go get it." He stood up, and went

to the door, turning back. "So, you want some, or no?"

"Sure," I said, deciding to splurge. "Vanilla, I guess."

"Chocolate syrup?" he asked me.

"No. I better not."

Daniel disappeared, and I got up from the bed, going to peer over the edge of the crib at Isaac. I covered him up a

bit more with the blanket. I was still standing there, watching him as he slept, when Daniel came back again.

He stuck his head in the open doorway. "Hey," he said, really softly, and I turned to look at him.

"Let's go to my room," he said, and walked on. I gave Isaac a last check over, and then followed Daniel, leaving the

door partially open so that I'd be able to hear Isaac.

When we got to the room that Daniel shares with Crane, I followed him in.

"Let's leave the door open," I said. "So I can hear Isaac if he wakes up."

Daniel nodded in agreement, turning to hand me one of the bowls he was carrying. It had a more than ample supply

of vanilla ice cream, with peanuts and cherries sprinkled on top.

"Nice," I told him, and he grinned at me.

"Maybe you can get a job at an ice cream shop, if the whole music thing doesn't work out," I said jokingly.

"Behave," he told me.

Daniel flopped down on the bed and I sat in the chair that was shoved in the corner of the room. We were eating

our ice cream, and I said, "I wonder how it's going for Crane, talking to Kenny."

"Hopefully good," Daniel said.

"Hopefully," I echoed.

"So, what happened with the two of you?" Daniel asked. "You were goin' out with Kenny for awhile, right?"

"A few times. Nothing big."

"Hmm," Daniel said.

"I liked Kenny, but I guess I'm just sort of holding out."

Daniel regarded me with interest, and I gave a shrug.

"For who? You have somebody definite in mind, do you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, yeah, I do."

"Oh, yeah? Well, who is it?" he asked.

He was sort of smiling at me, and I decided I didn't feel like being teased. Not about this.

I shook my head at him a little, and took another bite of ice cream.

"Come on, squirt," he said coaxingly. When I still was quiet, he said, looking alarmed, "It's not that Seth kid, is it?"

"No, Daniel," I said, with finality, rolling my eyes at him.

"Well, that's good," he said, relaxing again. "So, who then?"

"I don't want anybody teasing me about it."

"Oh." He looked thoughtful, and then said, "I won't tease you. I promise."

"Well, maybe you wouldn't," I said, setting my bowl of ice cream on the desk. "But Brian would. Or-"

"I get it," he said then. He set his empty bowl aside, and laid back on the bed, propping himself up with several

pillows.

"Would you not tell anyone?" I asked. "If I told you who it was?"

"You don't have to tell me, squirt," he said. "Not unless you want to."

Suddenly, just like that, I did want to tell him.

"Will you keep it to yourself?" I asked again. "Clare is the only one who really knows. Well, and Guthrie."

"My lips are sealed," he promised.

"It's Eddie," I said.

Daniel gave me a long look, and I could tell he was surprised.

"Eddie Marmon?" he clarified.

At my nod, he said, "He's pretty old for you, isn't he?"

"Now you sound like Evan," I said, feeling sorry that I'd told him.

"Now, just a minute," Daniel said, holding up his hand to me, in a signal to not jump to conclusions. "I'm just thinkin' out loud, is

all. Eddie's a nice guy."

"Very nice," I said, slightly mollified.

"He's what?" Daniel asked then. "Nineteen or so?"

"Twenty," I said, somewhat challengingly.

"Four years isn't so much," Daniel said slowly. "I mean, right now it is, but when you're a little bit older, then

it's not such a big deal."

"Dad was five years older than Mama," I reminded him. "And Adam's that much older than Hannah."

"Right," he said, seemingly agreeably.

I took a deep breath, and we just looked at one another for a couple of moments.

"Does he know you're interested in him?" Daniel asked then.

I nodded. "He's interested in me, too."

Daniel's eyebrow went up again. "He is?"

"He asked me out last fall and everything," I said. "But then Evan warned him off, and then Eddie and I had sort of

an argument, and he said he couldn't go out with me. Because he thought about it, and decided maybe there was too much

age difference. For right now."

"For right now," Daniel echoed, and sort of smiled at me again.

"Right."

Daniel settled back on the pillows, and laced his hands together behind his head.

He was looking at me thoughtfully, and I prompted, "So, what do you have to say?"

"Nothin'," he protested. "I'm not gonna preach to you about it. I told you, I think Eddie is a good guy. At least what I know

of him, he is."

I nodded in satisfaction at his answer.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt you to go out with some other guys, though, in the meantime," he went on.

"I have," I said, and then thought over the somewhat sparse list of boys I'd dated in the last year. Kenny, Tony, and Steven, if I

decided to count him.

"Well, a little, I have," I amended. I gave him a somewhat ornery look. "I've kissed more boys than I've dated, actually."

Predictably, Daniel's eyes widened, and he said, "How's that?"

"You don't have to be dating somebody to kiss them, Daniel," I said, enjoying teasing him. "Don't you know anything?"

"Maybe I don't know enough," Daniel said. "About you, that is."

"Oh," I said, in dismissal, waving a hand at him. I went to Crane's neatly made-up bed, and flopped down, propping my

head on my hand. "You don't have to worry about me, Daniel."

"It's somethin' I have to bear," he said. "Worrying about you. Rule number six in the OBH, stating that 'All consuming worry must

accompany every little sister'."

"You really should tear that handbook up," I said, referring to the 'Older Brothers Handbook' that Daniel was so

fond of quoting at me.

"Nah, I couldn't do that," Daniel said, with a grin. "How would I fill my spare time then, if I didn't have all those

rules and regulations about you to keep up on?"

I sailed a pillow his direction, and he effectively dodged it, sending it right back to my side of the room.

7


	57. Relaying

I enjoyed my time with Daniel, and we just spent the next hour or so talking about this and that. It was a good talking time

with him. I got up a couple of times to go check on Isaac, and he was still sleeping peacefully.

I won't lie. At one point I went to the top of the stairs, and listened to see if I could hear anything in the conversation

between Crane and Kenny. But the living room was quiet. Even peering over the railing, I couldn't see anything.

I went back to tell Daniel, complaining that I couldn't hear anything.

Daniel, who was still sitting all stretched out on his bed, was quietly strumming his guitar.

"Maybe because you're not supposed to hear anything," he reminded me.

Daniel was still doing that, and I was laying on my stomach, reading on my book again, when I heard

noise coming from the hallway. I got up and went to stick my head out.

"Who is it?" Daniel asked, from where he was sitting.

"It's just Evan," I responded.

A comment which earned me an irritated look from Evan, who paused in front of me, as I stood in the doorway of Hannah and Adam's

room.

"What sort of a thing is that to say?" he demanded. "It's just Evan", he mimicked me.

"How's Nancy?" I asked him.

"She's fine."

"Was Crane downstairs in the living room?" I asked him.

"I didn't see him."

"Was Kenny's truck still here?" I asked then.

"Yeah, I saw it."

I wondered where Crane and Kenny had gone to. Maybe for a walk or something.

"I'm beat. I'm headin' to bed," Evan announced. "Goodnight."

"Night, Ev," Daniel said.

I echoed my own goodnight to Evan, and had only just gone back inside the room, to sit on the edge of Crane's bed

again, when Crane appeared in the open doorway. I don't know how he managed to make it up the stairs without me

hearing him coming.

"Hey," he said, quietly. "Dan'l, can you come over to the Harris's in about an hour or so and pick me up? I'm going to

drive Kenny back to his house in his truck."

"Sure. I can do that," Daniel responded.

"Has he been drinking?" I asked, curiously, thinking that must be why Crane didn't think that Kenny should drive.

Crane gave me a quick glance. "I don't think so, no."

I stood up, and went to stand beside him. "Well, what was wrong with him?"

Crane hesitated. "That's something that Kenny needs to talk to his folks about, before anybody else hears, peanut."

"Oh," I said, and now I really was curious. I wanted to ask lots more questions. Like why was Crane going along with

Kenny to his house? But, I could tell that Crane didn't want to, and probably would not, answer any questions right

now.

"Alright. See you in about an hour, then," Crane said to Daniel.

"Yep," Daniel said, and then Crane was gone, going back downstairs. I turned to look at Daniel, and sighed.

"You'll find out what's going on soon enough, squirt," Daniel said, looking, I thought, a bit amused at my frustration.

Daniel laid his guitar aside on the bed, and stood up, stretching.

"Let's go down and tickle the ivories for awhile," he said.

"Just horsing around, though, right?" I asked him. "You're not going to get all pushy about how I play like Ford does,

are you?"

Daniel held up three fingers. "Scout's Honor," he said.

7

So we sat down on the piano bench together, and for a little while it was fun, playing duets and all. I would just jump

in after he'd started playing something, and I'd listened for a few minutes. But, it wasn't as though I was playing very

well, and I knew it.

After awhile, though, Daniel told me to stand up, and then he searched thru the sheet music stored in the piano bench.

As he sat back down, setting the sheets on the piano in front of him, he looked up at me. "Sit down."

I eyed him warily, and sat down.

"Take a look," Daniel said, nodding towards the sheet music, and beginning to play.

"I play by ear, remember?" I said, giving Daniel a nudge in the ribs with my elbow.

"You say that like it's somethin' you should get a trophy for," he said.

"It's Ford all over again," I groaned, sinking my face into my hands. I raised my face and reminded him, "You said, 'Scouts Honor'."

"Well," he said, with a grin, "Technically, I was never a Boy Scout, so it didn't count."

I pushed against him, harder this time.

"Okay, okay," Daniel said, nudging me back. "Sorry." He began playing the music in front of him. "Jump in," he told me.

We were still playing when there were the sounds of vehicles pulling up outside, and the front door opened, and McFaddens

began to stream into the room. I turned on the bench so that I was facing towards them, and Daniel swiveled around

to do the same.

"How was bowling?" Daniel asked, in a general way.

"It was fun," Hannah said, coming toward us. "How was the baby?" she asked me.

"He was fine. No problems. He's asleep," I told her.

"Great. Thank you again, sweetie," she told me.

Guthrie, in an obviously good mood, announced that he'd had the high score that night, at the bowling alley.

"I kicked Brian's butt," he said, grinning mischieveously at Brian.

"I was takin' it easy on you," Brian returned, and they scuffled around for a couple of moments, playfully.

"Evan home?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. He came in a while ago," Daniel said.

Adam nodded.

As everybody was sort of standing around, or sitting down on the couches, Clare gave a yawn.

"Whoo," she said. "I'm tired. Think I'll go on up to bed."

Daniel gave a look at the grandfather clock. "I gotta go get Crane," he said.

"Where's Crane?" Brian asked.

Daniel hesitated, and then gestured towards me. "I'll let squirt explain it to you," he said.

He headed towards the front door, to go out, and everybody turned sort of expectantly to look at me. Even Ford, who

had started up the stairs, stopped, and turned to listen.

As the door closed behind Daniel, I said, "Kenny came over."

Since this wasn't really anything as far as earth-shattering news to anyone, they all just waited.

Except for Guthrie. I didn't miss the look of interest and hope on his face. I knew he was missing Kenny, even after their

argument. He had to be.

"He asked for you, Guth," I said.

"He did?"

"Yeah. And then when we were outside talking, he got all upset," I went on.

"Upset about what?" Hannah asked.

Before I could say that I didn't know for sure, Guthrie said, "You didn't start in on him again about that dog bite he had, did ya?"

Guthrie's tone was a little too accusing to suit me.

"No, Guthrie, I didn't," I said, in irritation.

"Guthrie, let her talk," Hannah said.

"I don't know what he was upset about, exactly. He just-" I hesitated, wondering if I should share about Kenny

crying. "Well, I couldn't understand what was wrong, so I went to get Crane."

By now, everybody was looking curious, and all concerned.

"I wonder what was wrong," Hannah said.

"Maybe he's upset about his dad," Ford contributed, from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, referring to Mr. Harris suffering from

cancer.

"That's probably right," Brian tossed in.

"I don't know," I said. "Crane talked to him for over an hour, and then said he was driving Kenny's truck back to

the Harris's, and for Daniel to come and pick him up."

"Well, I'm glad he talked to Crane," Hannah said. "Hopefully that will help him feel better."

The room was quiet for a couple of moments, and then Ford said, "Night", to everybody and headed up the

stairs. Clare gave Brian a quick kiss. "I'm going up, too. Are you coming?"

"In a couple of minutes," Brian told her.

"Okay. Night, everybody," Clare said.

Hannah disappeared towards the kitchen, and Kristin said, sort of quietly, "I guess I'll go to bed."

There was a collective 'good night' to Kristin from Adam, Brian and I. Guthrie squeezed her hand.

"See ya in the morning," he said.

When Kristin had gone, Adam went to sit down on the arm of one of the couches.

"You ought to be gettin' to bed, too," he told me.

Left with just Adam, Brian and Guthrie then, I stood up, and went to sit down next to Adam on the couch.

"Kenny was really upset," I said quietly.

"Well, it's likely that Hannah's right," Adam said. "Talkin' to Crane probably helped."

"Yeah, Crane's good at that sort of thing," Brian said, in agreement, sitting down on the couch opposite ours.

I hesitated, and then said, "Kenny was crying."

They all three gave me their full attention.

"He couldn't hardly talk at all, he was crying so hard," I added. "I wasn't sure what to do. So that's why I came to get

Crane."

Guthrie was looking properly shocked at my announcement. So many emotions crossed his face, that I thought he might

call me an out and out liar, right then and there.

He didn't. He just stood there, staring at me.

"Well," Adam said, "Worrying about his dad, and his mom, too, is probably gettin' to him."

And then, suddenly, Guthrie said abruptly, "Goodnight," and was gone, up the stairs.

I watched him go, feeling bad for him.

I looked at Adam, and Brian, too, and said, "Crane said that whatever it was, that Kenny had to talk to his parents

about it, before anybody else could be told."

They exchanged a glance between them, and then Adam put his arm around my shoulders.

"It's getting late," he said, and pulled me over to kiss the top of my head. "Get on up to bed."

"Okay," I said, and gave him a hug. I got up, and went over to Brian, leaning down to hug him, too. "Night."

They both told me goodnight, and I went up the stairs, going to grab my pajamas and tell Kristin I would be right

back. When I came out of the bathroom, in my pajamas, and my teeth brushed, Guthrie was waiting for me.

7


	58. Nocturnal noises

"Hey, Guth," I said to him quietly.

Guthrie pushed himself off the wall that he'd been leaning against.

"I wanna talk to you," he said, speaking just as quietly as I had.

"Okay," I said, looking at him, and waiting.

"Not here. Not where anybody's gonna hear us," he said.

"Well," I considered. "My room or yours?"

"Ford's in mine," he reminded me.

"And Kristin's in mine."

"Let's go outside."

"Now?" I asked, thinking about how firm Adam had sounded when he'd told me to go to bed.

"Yeah. Now." He turned around and started walking towards the stairs.

"Adam and Brian are down there," I said.

Guthrie stopped, and turned to look at me. "Back stairs, then," he said, and started walking down the

other end of the hallway.

I walked fast to catch up with him. Just walking beside him, I could feel how on edge he was. I was going to

say something, like slow down, or maybe we ought to wait to talk in the morning. But I didn't, because it took

all my air to keep up with him.

At the bottom of the back stairs, he paused, listening. Checking, I knew, to see if he heard anybody in the kitchen.

He must not have, because he went on, out the back door. I paused myself, giving a quick look around the

kitchen. But it was all dark, except for the low light over the sink.

Once outside, the dogs all came to greet us. Warrior, Jethro and Gus all kept following us. Only Clarence stayed where he

was, on the back steps.

Guthrie headed across the yard, towards the orchard. I stayed with him, as best I could, because he kept walking

fast. The grass felt so cool on my bare feet. Once at the bench that sits under the trees, Guthrie paused.

"Tell me what Kenny said," he ordered, without preamble.

"What do you mean? When he was upset, you mean?" I asked.

"All of it. Everything."

"Well, he asked for you, and then he asked me to come outside and talk to him-" I began.

"Why would he do that?" Guthrie interrupted. "He knows you think he's worthless."

"I don't think that, Guthrie-"

"Yeah. Okay. So you went outside. What'd he say then?"

"He asked if I thought that you would talk to him, and I told him that he would just have to try. And then he said he'd been

a jerk to me. And he said he was sorry about it."

"And?" Guthrie prodded.

"That's it. Then he started crying. And I didn't know what to say. So I went to get Crane-"

"When you say cryin', what do ya mean?" Guthrie demanded.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" I repeated, irritated.

"Like it looked like he wanted to cry? Or he had tears in his eyes? Which?" he asked.

"No. Not like that." I hesitated. "Like full-blown crying. Sobbing."

Even from the light that shone from the back porch, I could see Guthrie sort of tilting his head to one side.

"You're exaggerating," he said, after a quiet couple of moments.

"I am not," I said.

He was quiet, and I stepped closer so as to see his face more clearly.

"I'm not. Why would I do that?" I asked him.

Still he was silent.

"It was awful," I went on. "It made me feel so bad for him. I wouldn't make something like that up."

I heard him sigh heavily. "Okay," he said.

"Maybe he's feeling bad about his dad," I offered up.

"Yeah."

"Except-" I began, and then paused.

"Except what?" Guthrie asked, immediately jumping on what I'd begun to say.

"When I asked Crane what it was all about, he said that Kenny needed to talk to his parents about it before anybody else found out."

Guthrie was silent again, and I took another step nearer to him.

"So, maybe it's not all about his dad," I added.

"Oh, man," Guthrie muttered, sounding frustrated, and upset.

"What?" I asked. At his silence, I shook his arm. "What, Guthrie?" It seemed as though Guthrie knew of something.

"Nothin'." He sighed again. "I'm goin' to bed."

We were near the back door, when I heard the braying. Only once, and not really close. But, I heard it.

"Did you hear that?" I asked Guthrie.

"Hear what?"

"Braying. Like a donkey."

We both cocked our heads to listen. Only the typical night noises. No sound of a braying burro.

"I don't hear anything," Guthrie said. He opened the back door, and held it open for me to pass in front of him.

"I'll be in in a minute," I told him. I turned to walk back across the yard.

"Where are you goin'?" Guthrie hissed, in a loud whisper.

"Go on to bed," I told him, and I kept walking. I heard him mutter again, sounding irritated, and then heard the screen door flap closed

behind him, as he went inside the house.

7

I picked my way across the cool grass, still listening to see if I heard it again. I was around the side of the

barn when I did hear it. Definitely, it was the sound of one of the burros. I changed directions, and went back to the

barn, opening the big doors, and switching on the lights. I went to grab a couple of the apples in the bins at the side. Then I

went to search thru the shelves, hoping to find a flashlight. I did find one, though I had to bang it against my leg to

make it come on, and even then the light was dismal. Still, it was better than no light at all.

I went back out and walked thru the pasture. Walking amongst the cattle at night that way was sort of surreal. I could

see the shapes of their bodies in the darkness, and even hear them snipping off the grass and chewing. A cold nose came up

and touched my hand at my side. I looked down, a little startled, even though I knew that it was about ninety percent

positive to be Warrior. And it was.

"Just checking things out, boy," I told him.

I kept walking, picking my way across the field, trying to shine the flashlight on the ground. I didn't want to step in cow

manure in my bare feet, and I sure did not want to step on a snake. I went to where the barrels were set up, and to the spot

where I'd seen the two burros at the morning before. Shining the light across the fence, I didn't see them. I

couldn't help the disappointment that I felt. And I'd heard one of them. I knew I had. So they had to be nearby. It was

just hard to figure out exactly where, in the dark like this, and with the way that sound carries in different directions.

I walked a bit further out into the pasture, staying over near the fence line.

I could hear rustling in the grass, and I stopped walking, putting a hand on Warrior's head to keep him still.

Even if I held my breath, I could still hear it. I turned the flashlight's rays over the area, moving it back and forth.

And there, in the dim light, stood one of the burros. I felt a surge of excitement.

They must really like it around our place, if they were still here. I realized that the burro was standing on our side of

the fences, and wondered how that had happened. Must be that there was a hole in the fence somewhere.

Oh, boy. That wasn't good.

There was nothing I could do about that right at the moment, though. So, I concentrated on stepping closer to

the little burro. I told Warrior to stay, but wasn't surprised when he just galloped off the other direction.

I began to whistle softly, as I inched forward.

"Hey there," I said, softly.

In the light, I saw the burro raise his head even higher, looking at me.

"You remember me, don't you, boy?" I talked on.

I would have liked to try to get him to eat from my hand, but I didn't want to risk scaring him off, in the dark

like this, so I gave careful aim with one of the apples. A gentle toss.

The burro wasted no time in beginning to munch.

I moved the flashlight back and forth a few times, searching for the other burro. I couldn't see it, though, and I wondered

where it had gone to.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, listening to the sounds of the apple crunching as it was eaten, and talking softly

to the burro. It was long enough that I started to feel cold. The night air had turned chilly, and especially my bare feet

were feeling it.

"You stay around, alright, fella?" I told the burro, as though he could understand me. "I'll bring you more to eat tomorrow."

I tossed my second apple in front of him, and turned away, beginning my walk back towards the house.

I called out to Warrior, but he didn't come.

I was back up in the pasture where the cows were at, when Warrior came running back up to me.

"Where did you get off to?" I asked him. "You crazy dog."

I turned the flashlight back forward again, and there was something large standing there in front of me. About

ten or twelve feet away.

I caught my breath in a startled gasp, and came to an immediate stop. I reached out to touch Warrior's head. My mind

began to race all over the place. It was a person. A tall one. Had someone sneaked onto our property, and the dogs hadn't

alerted anybody? I realized then that Warrior hadn't barked in warning at all. If anything, he'd been accompanying whoever

it was.

It was one of my brothers. It had to be. I had sudden, impulsive thoughts of who I wished for it to be.

I waited, and then, a couple of seconds later, before I could tell by the light, I knew by the voice.

"Harlie Marie."

Uh. I groaned inwardly.

I didn't say anything cute, or funny, like say a casual 'hi' to him. I stayed still.

"What are you doin' out here?" he asked.

I hesitated, remembering several things all at once. One, he'd told me to go to bed. Two, he'd told me to

leave the burros alone. And three, it hadn't been all that long ago that those men had been near our pasture on their

four-wheelers, with guns. So, I was silent, not replying.

He was beside me, then. "Answer me," he ordered. An eight on a scale of ten.

I was going to tell him that I'd come this far from the house at night because I'd heard something. That would not impress him,

though. It would enrage him. So I was still hesitating to answer, when he took my arm in one hand, and turned me, smacking me

on the rear end so hard that it took my breath.

Dang, but it stung! I yelped, partly from the surprise of it, but mostly because it did hurt.

And then he did it again. And a third time. By that time, he'd bent me over his arm.

"Ow, Adam!" I managed.

He paused. "You've recovered your ability to speak, have you?" he asked.

I recognized that tone. Voice not raised at all. Tense. Curt. Terse. Quiet. Warning.

"Yes!" I said.

He turned me loose then, without saying anything more. And then he turned to start walking towards the house.

I followed. Not because I was anxious to, either. Tears were welling up in my eyes.

Once near the pasture gate, he opened it, instead of climbing over, and I went thru first, and then he closed

it again, refastening it. He paused, looking down at me. I could see his face fairly clearly in the yard pole light.

"Let's have it," he said shortly.

"I thought that I heard one of the burros," I said.

"From your bedroom?" he asked, sardonically.

"No."

"So you decide to go traipsing that far from the house near to midnight?"

I hesitated in answering yet again, and I saw, even in that light, one of his eyebrows raise in warning.

"Yes," I admitted, quickly.

He surveyed me with an intentness. I rubbed at my cheek.

"It sounds like we have a misunderstanding between us," Adam said.

"We don't, Adam," I said.

"We must have. If we didn't, then I don't think we'd be standin' here, having this conversation at this

time of night," he said.

"I'll go to bed," I said, but before I could take one step, he spoke.

"Nope. Stand right there."

I stood where I was, and swallowed hard. I felt as though I was ten years old again.

"So, burro hunting, huh?" he asked.

"I just wanted to see-" I began, and then let my voice trail off. He wouldn't consider that anywhere near

a valid excuse.

"And did you?" he asked. "See?"

I nearly said no. I nearly lied to him. But, at the last second, I said, "Yes." Then for good measure, I added, "Sir."

"With the cattle?" he asked then.

"No. Further on," I said.

When he was silent for a couple of moments, I knew he was thinking. Considering the burros.

"It was only one of them," I offered.

"Fence must be down somewhere," he said, almost as if he were thinking aloud to himself.

"I'll help check it tomorrow," I said, trying to make amends.

I wished I hadn't offered, because that seemed to make his whole attention return to me again.

"What did I tell you?" he asked, still in that same 'terrible' voice.

I wasn't certain just which 'thing' he was referring to, that he'd told me.

I seized upon the most logical. "To go to bed," I said.

"Besides that," he said, sounding impatient.

"To leave the burros alone," I admitted.

"That's right. Not to mention the fact that you went that far from the house, this late, alone," he said, sounding

as though he wanted to throttle me.

"I'm sorely tempted to take you in the barn, and blister your behind," he went on.

I felt my stomach clench. "You already-" I began, and then fell silent.

"It has been awhile, if you think those swats you got are equal to a paddling," he said. "Besides, those were for not

answering me."

"I'm sorry," I said. And I was. I didn't want to be in trouble. But I knew how much Adam had on his plate right now, and

on his mind. He didn't need me causing him any worry.

He sighed. "It's late and I'm tired. I've got to be up at five, and I want to go to sleep. So you get yourself to your

room, and get to bed. We'll talk about the burros again tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," I said.

"I'm gonna turn off the lights you left on in the barn," he said. "You hustle on inside."

"Okay," I said, turning to make a hasty escape.

"Did you do your shot?" he called after me, and I halted, feeling my stomach plummet yet again. Oops.

Again, for about a split second, I considered lying to him. But, even if I did dare to, he would know. He was going to

be coming into the kitchen right on my heels. He only had to turn off the barn lights. So, he'd see me in the kitchen as I

was getting stuff out to do the injection. And, there was no question of not doing it, just to prevent him from becoming more

angry at me. I couldn't take that chance with my diabetes.

"I'll do it as soon as I get in," I said, avoiding an open, out and out admission to not doing it.

"Harlie," I heard him mutter.

"It was just such a crazy evening," I said, in explanation. "With Kenny coming by and all-and I just forgot-"

"Come here," Adam said.

I wanted, a nano-second. And then I walked over to where he stood, near to the barn doors.

He reached out and took my chin in one hand, tilting it so that I was looking directly at him.

"Should we go back to before, when one of us had to keep track, and watch you every single day?" he asked sternly.

"No," I said, feeling as though I was going to burst into full-blown tears at that point.

"Then do I want to hear excuses? Any excuse?"

"No, sir," I managed.

He sighed again. Heavily. And he let go of my chin. "Go," he said.

I ran all the way to the back door, and went in, and began pulling out all the supplies. My hands were shaking, a little,

because I was upset, I guess. I must have done it wrong, or something, because it hurt.

I was sniffling, and putting things away, when the screen door opened, and Fat Clarence came in, followed by Adam. Any

other time, I would have been amused at the fact that he let Clarence sneak in at night sometimes.

Now, though, I kept my face averted, hoping he wouldn't hear me sniffling like I was. He went to the cabinet and pulled

down a glass, and then went to the refrigerator, and I could hear the sound of him pouring something.

I still had my back to him, when he said, very quietly, "Crying always gives you a headache."

So, he'd heard me.

At first, I wasn't going to answer. Then, I thought better of it, and said, "Yes, sir."

He was beside me then, leaning against the counter. And then, he set down his glass, and said, "How about a hug

goodnight? Or are you too mad at me?"

I shook my head, and then looked at him. "You're mad at me, though," I said.

"Yeah. I am. A little," Adam said. "But, I'll still take a hug goodnight, if you want to give me one."

His voice was softer now. More like usual.

I stepped over, and he wrapped both arms around me. We stood that way for a couple of minutes, neither one of us

saying a word. Then he kissed the top of my head.

"Tomorrow's another day, sugar," he said.

7


	59. Cattle loading and a boy named Bill

I followed Adam from the kitchen to the living room, where he switched off the ceiling lights, and instead turned on two of the

lamps. Then he sat down on one of the couches, his glass of milk in his hand.

He'd told me outside how tired that he was, and how he wanted to go to bed. I paused on the bottom step.

"Aren't you going to bed, too?" I asked him, quietly.

"In a bit."

I realized then that he was likely waiting for Crane and Daniel to get home, concerned about what was going on

with Kenny, and wanting to make sure that Crane was alright. That had to be it.

He leaned back a little against the couch, running one hand across the back of his neck, in a gesture of

weariness. He put his hand down, and took a long drink of his milk. When he turned a bit, and realized that

I was still standing there, on the bottom stair, he twisted so that he was looking my way.

"What, Harlie?" he asked, obviously thinking that I wanted to say something.

I shook my head a little. "Nothing," I told him.

"Then go on up to bed," he said.

I went up the stairs then, and went to the bathroom before heading to my bedroom.

Kristin was already asleep, her long blonde hair spread out over her pillow. The lamp on my desk was still on, and I

squeezed around the cot she was sleeping on, in order to turn off the lamp. I felt my way in the dark, the few feet to my bed, and

got in, bumping my knee on the cot as I did so.

The bumping against the cot woke Kristin up, because she said, sounding groggy, "Harlie?"

"Yeah. Sorry I woke you."

"It's okay," Kristin said. "What's going on? I tried to stay awake until you came up, but I couldn't."

"It's okay. I got in trouble for walking out to look for the burros."

"Oh," she said, and I could hear her rustling around on the cot. "Did you find out anything about Kenny yet?"

"No. Crane's not home yet. Adam's waiting for him downstairs."

"Is Guthrie alright?" Kristin asked.

"I don't think he's really alright. He acts funny."

"Funny ha ha, or funny strange?" she asked.

"Strange. Weird."

I didn't think we were talking very loud at all, but we must have been, because there was a quick tap on the door,

and then it opened, the light from the hall streaming in.

"What are you girls doin' still awake?" Brian demanded.

I didn't think it was wise to tell Brian that I'd only just gotten into bed. That would be certain to set him roaring, and I

was sure he was going to find out about my night search for the burros from Adam anyway.

So I just said, "We're just talking, Bri."

"Well, shut it down. It's late. Hear me?" he ordered.

Kristin gave him a quick reply. "Okay, Brian."

"Harlie?" he prompted, sounding brusque.

"Yes, Bri," I said, feeling weary.

"Alright. Goodnight," he said, and closed the door.

"Now we're both in trouble," Kristin whispered to me.

"You're not in trouble," I whispered back. I got under my sheets and quilt, snuggling down in my bed.

"I don't know why they all have to be so darned strict around here," I said, in a furious whisper.

I heard Kristin giggle, and then she muffled it into her pillow.

"What's so funny?" I whispered.

"You are," she said, and muffled another giggle.

I was suddenly so tired that I didn't even ask her what she meant.

7

The next morning, Kristin and I were both still sleeping, when there was a rapping on the door.

"Up and at 'em, girls," said a voice from the hallway.

I woke up, and stretched, but I kept laying there. Kristin showed no sign of waking up.

There were sounds in the hallway, voices and boot steps. I rolled over, trying to see what time it was

on my alarm clock.

"Uh, six o'clock," I moaned.

"Harlie? You up?" said another voice, at the door, followed by a knock. Brian.

"Yes," I said, loud enough to be heard.

"Move it. All hands on deck," he said. "The truck's here to load the cattle."

"Okay," I said.

I got up, moving a lot quicker then. I grabbed a pair of jeans and t shirt from my dresser drawers, and a pair of socks.

"Kris, wake up," I told her, reaching down to shake her shoulder.

I went out, and down the hallway to the bathroom. The water from the shower was running, and I sighed.

I rapped on the door.

"What?!" came a holler from inside the bathroom.

"Truck's here to load the cattle!" I called. "Hurry up!"

I heard an oath. Something along the lines of 'dammit, thought it was 7:30'! Then the water was turned off. Another four or

five minutes, and then the door opened. Daniel was pulling on his shirt, his hair wet from the shower.

"It's here already?" he asked me.

"That's what Brian said," I said, and slipped around him to get into the bathroom.

"You sure this isn't just a trick?" he asked. "To get me out of the bathroom so you can have the shower?"

He smiled at me, but I didn't smile back.

"No, Daniel. No trick," I told him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I shook my head in answer to his question.

"Huh?" he persisted.

"Just tired," I said. "What happened with Kenny?"

The expression on Daniel's face changed instantly. He looked-well, regretful is the word, I guess. And somber.

"Crane will talk to you," he said. "To you and Guthrie."

He ran a hand over the top of my head, and went back down the hallway towards his own room.

I got dressed really quickly, puzzling the whole time over what Daniel might have meant by that. 'Crane will talk

to you'.

It definitely sounded as though it was something big. Something serious. Otherwise, why was it so shrouded in mystery?

I was dressed, and was sweeping my hair up into a ponytail, when someone else began rapping on the bathroom door.

"Truck's here! Come on!"

7

I had one boot on, and was pulling on the other one as I walked, going down the front porch steps. There was a large semi truck

backed up to the pasture gate. The area that Evan had worked so hard on, while everybody else was on roundup. The truck was

one of those that is called by ranchers and farmers a 'pot trailer', which is short for potbellied trailer. It's called that because

it's got two levels. Livestock can be on the top platform and on the bottom, as well. They can hold approximately fifty

cattle at one time. I could see Evan and Ford and Crane near the back of the trailer. Adam was talking to the driver of

the truck. Brian was coming out of the barn, and he gave a shrill whistle, getting my attention.

When I'd hurried over to him, he told me to saddle Charlie or Petra quick, and to begin helping Guthrie round up the

cattle that were in the new area that had just been fenced.

"Put 'em in the corral," Brian said. "The truck will get them next. Or on the next trip."

I said okay, and ran to gather my saddle and bridle. I whistled for Petra, but she was in one of her obnoxious moods,

and wouldn't come. Old Charlie did, though. I saddled him quickly and went to join Guthrie, who was rounding up

the thirty or so head of cattle in this area.

Over the noise, Guthrie yelled, "I've got these! See if you can get the steers that went over there!" He gestured

towards the corner of the pasture, and I nodded to show him that I understood. I galloped Charlie over, and began

rounding up the three stubborn steers that had decided to congregate in one corner.

As assignments go, it was relatively easy. Guthrie and I had the cattle in the corral, ready. Once the gate had been

closed, and refastened, I climbed back up onto Charlie's back. Guthrie and I sat there, side by side on our horses,

catching our breath.

"Where's Kristin?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Maybe helping Hannah with breakfast," I suggested.

"I hope Hannah makes a big one. I'm starvin'."

"She will," I said. "She'll know everybody will be extra hungry after all this."

We sat in quiet for a couple of minutes.

"Have you found anything out yet?" Guthrie asked.

He didn't have to specify. I knew exactly what he meant.

"No. Daniel said that Crane will talk to us," I said.

Guthrie gave no response to that. He just let his gaze settle on the cattle, roaming around in the corral.

"Are you worried about it?" I asked him.

"Worried about what?" he countered.

"About what it is. That's wrong with Kenny."

"Got no reason to worry."

"But, you are," I said. "I can tell."

Guthrie flashed me a look. He looked irritated, and started to answer me with a snap. I know, because he stopped, and

closed his mouth, and looked out over the cattle again.

I felt suddenly adrift. Separated from Guthrie.

"It will be okay, Guth," I said, trying to sound comforting.

Guthrie looked at me quickly, and then away again. He gave a nod of his head. "Yeah," he said.

It wasn't much, as far as responses go. But it was better than nothing.

7

For the next two hours, cattle were sorted, and loaded into the semi truck. When they got ready for the

cattle that Guthrie and I had gathered, I manned the gate again, swinging it out wide. Ford and Evan kept the

cattle contained from escaping from the corral, as the big truck backed up again, the back up alarms beeping, over and

over.

It was while I was watching all that, that I noticed the boy that was with the driver of the truck. I knew I'd seen him

around the last couple weeks before school got out, but I didn't remember if I'd heard his name. From observing, I figured

out that the driver/owner of the truck must be his father.

I saw Guthrie talking to the boy, and then at one point, while I was still perched on top of the corral fence, watching the cattle

walk into the trailer, he was close enough to speak to me.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I answered.

"Good looking cattle," he said.

"Yeah. They are."

There was silence for a couple of moments. "I'm Bill. Bill Griffin."

"I'm Harlie," I said.

"Right. I saw you around school. I was only there a couple weeks before summer vacation."

After that, we made small talk. He told me about where his family had moved from.

"Have you lived here long?" he asked me.

"All my life."

"What do kids do around here for fun?" he asked me.

"Well," I considered. "There's the Dari Kurl, in Murphys. Kids hang out there. Or you can go bowling or skating in Angels Camp. There's

a movie theater there, too."

"How about parties? Many of them around?" he asked.

"Depends on what sort of party you're looking for," I said.

Bill looked embarrassed. "Not that sort of party," he said. "I don't do any weed, or anything."

I felt bad for embarrassing him. He seemed nice.

"I didn't mean that, exactly," I said. "Sometimes there's beer parties."

"Yeah?" He regarded me intently. "Do you like to go to parties?"

"I don't usually go," I said, in honesty. "It's sort of hard to go when there's all these brothers, watching."

He grinned at me. "I've got three older sisters," he shared. "I think I sort of understand."

By the time the truck was loaded with cattle, Bill had asked me if I wanted to go to the movies.

I told him he could call me later, if he wanted to, and I'd let him know if I could go. As the truck pulled out of the

driveway, stocked with all forty-five of the cattle that were heading to the stockyards to be sold, I felt a little better.

Eight-fifteen in the morning, and I'd been asked out on a date. No matter what, there's something about

that sort of a thing that makes a girl's self-esteem and mood go a bit higher.

7

Typical meals, in times past, after the cattle have been sent to market, are usually rowdy, and

filled with the exaltation that comes from hard work and perseverance. A feeling of a job well done.

I sensed right away that there wasn't much of that this time. I could see some relief at having it done. From Adam and

Brian, mostly. But the usual jocularity was missing.

I kept still, eating my breakfast. I'd filled a cup with strong, black coffee, and was using it to perk myself up.

Guthrie was tense. Even though Kristin was between us, I could still tell.

"It's a relief to have the cattle off, isn't it?" Clare said, cheerfully. She's been around long enough to sense everyone's

moods.

"It is," Adam said, in agreement, and Brian leaned back in his chair, and put an arm around her shoulders.

Things got quiet again after that, and Clare made no more attempts to lighten the mood at the table.

After awhile, it was as though Adam and Crane exchanged glances, and then Brian nodded when they looked at him.

They were all doing their 'talking without words' thing again. I turned to Hannah, and she too, was in on the

'unspoken' thing. She was all serious and sad looking. She put her fork down, even though she did had a lot of

her eggs left. And I heard her sigh a little, and look toward Adam. Waiting.

Daniel, too, already in the loop of what was going on, was silent. I wondered if Evan already knew, too.

A glance at his face, and I was fairly certain that he did know. He looked uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"We need to talk about what's happened with you kids," Crane said. "About Kenny."

7


	60. What ifs

Immediately, I felt my whole body tense up. I put my fork down, and pushed my plate away a bit. I took the coffee cup and

wrapped my hands around it, feeling the warmth. It was more really so that I'd have something to do with my hands.

Guthrie leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms. It seemed that it was almost a defensive thing on his part. As if to

say, 'whatever you have to say, bring it on'.

Adam, I saw, had leaned back, too, and crossed his own arms, his expression solemn.

Crane began talking, then.

"The reason that I didn't say anything last night to you, Harlie, was because Kenny needed to talk to his parents

about some things. It wouldn't have been right to say anything until he'd done that."

I nodded in acknowledgement that I understood.

"Kenny needed to talk to somebody-he probably would have talked to you, if you'd been home, Guth," Crane said.

I knew that Crane was saying that to Guthrie, so as to ease the way to whatever was coming next.

"Kenny's gotten involved in some things that he shouldn't have," Crane said quietly. "He's been helping with running

the Mustangs, to sell them to the factories. Cutting the fences. Trespassing. All of it."

There was a silence then that was as sharp as if somebody had been yelling. I saw Kristin look swiftly to her right,

to Guthrie, and then, under the table, she put her hand on his knee, in silent support.

Neither Guthrie or I said anything. If I was to be entirely honest, I would have to say that I wasn't entirely

shocked by what Crane said. I'd believed all along that Kenny had been in our fields that night, the night that

Warrior was grazed with a bullet.

But that does not mean to say that I was without feelings. There was still a slight amount of surprise, because

there had always been the chance that I was wrong about Kenny. And now, there was also the other emotions.

Mostly, though, I was thinking about how Guthrie had to be feeling.

"He's talked to his parents, and he'll be talking to the sheriff this morning, and telling them what he knows.

Names, and dates, and things like that," Crane said.

"Why would he do that?" I asked. "Get involved in something like that?"

Crane looked hesitant to answer, and Adam said, "Could be lots of reasons."

"He says for money," Crane said, deciding, I guessed, that we should have a straight answer.

I looked across Kristin to Guthrie. He was still sitting the same way, his arms crossed. He hadn't spoken a word,

and his face looked as hard as granite.

"He's owned up to it now," Adam said. "And he'll be able to help the case. By giving names."

"What will happen to him?" I asked, wondering if Kenny would have to go to jail.

"I don't know," Crane admitted. "Hopefully, they'll take into account that he's come forward on his own."

There was silence again. I think they were all waiting for Guthrie to speak. To say something. Anything at all. But,

he didn't.

"Kenny's feeling real bad about it all," Crane said, quietly, sounding sad. "He feels like he let his folks down."

"Well, he did," Brian said shortly.

Then silence.

"You kids have any other questions? I can try to answer, if you do," Crane said.

I shook my head. "No."

"Guthrie?" Crane prompted.

"Nope," Guthrie said, sounding as though he might choke. Then, abruptly, he stood up. "Can I be excused?"

"You can," Adam said, then added, "Talkin' things thru might help, Guth."

Guthrie shook his head in refusal. "Excuse me," he said, and left, out the back door, the screen shutting

with a loud flap.

When Guthrie had gone, the silence grew thicker at the table.

Kristin looked shell-shocked, and I knew she was worried about Guthrie. Hannah, too, looked

emotional. As if she could cry. I knew she wouldn't. Not now, in front of everybody. But she looked as if

she could.

She reached over and took one of my hands, squeezing it.

"Okay, sweetie?" she asked me.

"I guess."

Ford stood up, pushing in his chair to the table. "I'll go try talkin' to Guthrie," he said.

"Ford?" Adam said, and Ford turned, pausing at the back door.

For a moment, I thought that maybe Adam was going to try to keep Ford from talking to Guthrie. But then,

Adam only shook his head. "Nothin'. Go on. Good luck."

Ford nodded, and went out.

"Things to be done," Evan said, quietly, and got up, taking his plate to the sink. "Comin', Daniel?"

"Coming," Daniel said, and went to do the same with his plate. On his way back around, as they

headed towards the living room, Daniel came behind my chair, touching my hair with his hand as

he passed by.

"What should we do?" Kristin asked, into the silence. She sounded almost frightened.

"About Guthrie, you mean?" Adam asked her.

At Kristin's nod, Adam said, "We'll see how Ford does, talkin' to him." He gave Kristin a half-smile, which

I knew was an effort for him, right then. "Try not to worry," he added.

"Yes," Kristin said, and I could tell that she wanted to believe Adam. "Haven't they been best friends, though,

for a really long time?"

Quiet.

And then Crane said, with a glance at Adam and Brian, "Since first grade, right?"

"Since first grade," Adam said, sounding regretful.

After another few moments, Adam told Kristin to go try calling her mom, in order to check in with her,

and Kristin got up to go do that.

"I've got to be getting started for the hospital," Clare said, and got up, pushing her chair up. Brian stood up, too,

saying, "What time will you be home?"

"The shift is over at three. It's just a short one," Clare said. "See you later," she said, in a general way.

"I'll go out with you," Brian said, and they left the kitchen.

The sound of Isaac's wailing came from upstairs, and Hannah said, "His teeth are really hurting him." And then,

she was gone, too, up the back stairs.

Left alone at the table, with Adam at one end, and Crane across from me, I just sat. I had my hands in my lap,

picking at a hangnail on my thumb.

There didn't really seem to be anything to say. I got up, and went to check the dishwashing chart. I was on,

with Hannah. I began to clear the table, stacking the plates. When I worked my way around the other side of the

table, Crane reached out to put a hand on my waist.

"You feel like talking?" he asked me.

"There's nothing to say," I said. And then I met his eyes. "Is there?"

Crane looked sad. Regretful. I shrugged, and went over to start running hot water in the sink.

"I'm going to start making out some checks," Crane said, to Adam.

"Okay."

I heard Crane's boots scraping on the wooden floor, as he got up, and walked out thru to the living room.

Now it was Adam and I. I squeezed dish soap into the hot water, and began washing juice glasses and cups.

Adam went to the coffee pot to refill his cup, and then he opened the towel drawer and took out a dishtowel. And, then, wordlessly,

he began drying the dishes as I put them in the dish drainer.

I was done with the cups and glasses, and had begun on the silverware, when the silence was broken by my

question.

"Does that mean that Kenny was part of all of it? Even the rough stuff?" I asked Adam.

"I don't know, Harlie."

"Like shooting our cows?" I asked.

"He denies that, Crane says. Though he says he knows who it was."

"But he shot my dog," I said, with simmering anger.

"It's possible."

I thought suddenly of Kenny's parents. His dad, so ill with cancer. And his mother. She was a true Southern belle, and

had never really seemed to adapt to ranch life. She had to be despondent right now, about her beloved Kenneth

traveling the path he'd chosen.

"I feel sorry for his mom," I said.

"I do, too."

I sighed, and scrubbed at a stubborn spot on one of the plates.

"What about all the blood you saw on the ground, the time we went camping?" I asked, pausing to look

up at him. "What do you think that was?"

"Can't say for sure, but likely it was from a horse."

"Why would they shoot any of them?" I asked him, puzzled. "Wouldn't they want them all, in order to make the

most money?"

"You'd think so, but they're likely more concerned with saving time at that point. Could have been a horse that was weak,

or it might be one that moved too slow to suit them."

"Like how?" I asked, not entirely certain that I wanted to hear the answer.

"Maybe it wouldn't load fast enough. Or, it could have been shot after it was in the trailer."

"Why shoot it after it was already loaded?" I asked. By now, I'd given up any pretense of

washing dishes, and was turned, facing him.

"If one gets to thrashing around in a trailer that's already filled, then that one could cause the others

to start panicking, too. They wouldn't want that."

"Oh," I said, feeling a little sick at the thought of what the Mustangs must have gone thru.

Kristin appeared at the door of the kitchen. "Adam," she said, sounding reluctant, "My mom wants to

talk to you."

"Okay," Adam said, laying down the dish towel, and heading towards the living room. He paused beside Kristin.

"Everything okay?" he asked her.

"She wants me to come home," Kristin said, looking upset.

"Oh. Well, I'll go talk to her," Adam said.

As he'd begun to walk on, Kristin said, "I already told her that I won't. There is no way."

It was like watching a show on television, only in slow motion.

Adam stopped, and came back the few steps that he'd walked. "Kristin," he said, very quietly. I knew what he

meant, even if Kristin didn't.

"Well, I won't," Kristin insisted. "She's crazy if she thinks I will. A major lunatic."

"You shouldn't talk about your mama like that," Adam said, all serious sounding.

I wondered what had taken over Kristin. Maybe an alien, or something. I understood that she didn't want

to go home when Freaky Frank was there. But to talk like she was? And to Adam? That was totally unlike

her!

"I know you have lots going on around here," Kristin said then, looking up at Adam, her cheeks bright with color. "And if you don't want me

to stay here, then I'll go. But, it won't be back there! I'll go somewhere else!"

"Nobody said any such thing, about not wanting you to stay," Adam told her. "Just settle down."

His tone was a seven and a half on a scale of ten. It had all the authority of him at his most firm. Adam hasn't

raised kids all these years and not perfected his tone.

And Kristin heard. And took note of it.

She swallowed a little, looking up at him, and seeming to realize things.

"Alright?" Adam asked her.

"Yes," Kristin said, with a nod.

"I'll go see what she has to say," he said, and went on.

I gave Kristin a raised eyebrow look.

"I've really done it now, haven't I?" she asked me, looking worried.

"I don't know about that, but you're starting to be more like me all the time," I said, in an attempt at

humor.

We exchanged smiles, and then I said, "Help me dry these dishes, will you?"

7

While Kristin and I were finishing up the dishes, Hannah came back downstairs, carrying a now-quiet Isaac.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she said to me. "I left you with all this to clean up."

"It's alright," I told her. "Adam helped awhile, and then Kristin took over."

Hannah smiled at Kristin in appreciation. "Well, thank you, too, then."

Kristin just sort of nodded, and Hannah gave us both a discerning glance.

"What is it?" she asked, apparently able to sense something. Hannah, too, like Adam, has those 'parent' skills down to

a science. She's able to 'mom zone' in on something fairly quickly.

I looked to Kristin, but she looked so tongue-tied and uncomfortable that I spoke for her.

"Kris is worried that she made Adam mad," I offered.

"Oh," Hannah said, slowly, reaching down to lift Isaac's bouncy seat up onto the table, which was now cleared of

the breakfast dishes.

She laid the baby in it, and fastened the safety strap around him. Then she looked up at

both of us again, her forehead lined in concern.

"What happened?" she asked.

"My mom said she wants me to come home," Kristin said, in a low tone.

"And?" Hannah prompted.

"I told her that I wouldn't come. And then I told Adam-" Kristin hesitated. "That if I couldn't stay here,

that I would go somewhere else."

"Oh," Hannah said, again.

"It was like she was taken over by something," I said, nudging Kristin jokingly. "She was downright

sassy."

Kristin didn't look amused. She looked dejected. "Now Adam will think I'm not appreciating what you all are

doing, letting me stay here. He'll think that I'm rude-and-" Kristin's voice trailed off.

"I don't believe Adam will think that, not for a minute," Hannah said.

"Really?" Kristin asked, and I could tell that she wanted to believe Hannah.

"You can talk it out with him," Hannah said. "Is he still on the telephone with your mom?"

"I don't know."

"Well, we'll see what he says," Hannah said, in a soothing way.

We were finishing up, wiping the counters, and helping Hannah get out the ingredients for a dessert she

was going to make later, when Adam came to the door of the kitchen.

He came over, and leaned down over Isaac's bouncer, kissing him. "Hey, partner," he said to Isaac, softly.

"Is it his teeth botherin' him again?" he asked Hannah.

"Uh huh," Hannah said, with a nod.

"Does he have some of that-what is it-baby teething stuff?" Adam asked then.

"I put some on his gums, and he had some baby Tylenol, too."

"That's good," Adam said, letting the baby hang onto one of his fingers.

When Adam stood up straight again, he looked towards both Kristin and I.

"Kristin, let's talk about what your mom had to say," he said.

"Okay," Kristin said, but her voice came out more as a soft squeak.

"Harlie, we've got that opening in the fence to find, remember?" he said to me. Referring, I knew, to

my midnight jaunt into the pasture, and the fact that the burro had somehow found his way into our

field.

I nodded in response, and he said, "Go on out and saddle a horse for both of us, and I'll be there in a few minutes."

I shot Kristin a quick look. I knew she was nervous about talking to Adam, and that she'd much prefer that I

stay right there.

I was still worried about my own interaction with Adam from the evening before. So I had no wiggle room to

coax or argue with him, just in order to stay with Kristin. So, I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging half-smile,

and went out the back door, and across the barn yard.

7

I was saddling the horses as Brian came up.

"Goin' out to check the fence?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I said, eyeing him over Charlie's back, as I tightened the cinch. I wondered how much he knew about the burro.

"Holler when you and Adam head out. I'll go along," he said.

"Okay."

He went on around the other side of the barn, but he was back again before Adam had made his appearance from

the house. I had saddled Dandy and held his reins, while I sat on Charlie's back.

"Adam's still not out here, huh?" he asked.

"Not yet."

"I'll get Duke," Brian said then, and went to the tack shed, coming out with his saddle over one shoulder. I urged

Charlie forward, leading Dandy behind, and followed Brian as he opened the pasture gate. He refastened the gate,

and gave a piercing whistle. Duke came cantering up, and Brian busied himself saddling the horse.

Once that was done, he mounted, and we sat in quiet, waiting. Bumblebees were buzzing around, and the heat

was the sort that seeps all the way into your bones, warming every part of a person.

The horses nibbled at the grass as we waited.

"Adam helpin' Crane with the money stuff?" Brian asked.

"He was talking to Kristin when I came out."

Brian nodded. "Mmm."

"Her mom called," I shared.

"Did she?" Brian asked, pulling a can of Copenhagen from his shirt pocket, and taking out a pinch. He tucked it

into his cheek.

"Kristin said her mom wanted her to come home," I went on.

Brian tucked the can back into his pocket.

"She doesn't want to go." I studied Brian's profile. "Not while Frank's there."

"It's a rough deal for her, alright," he said.

"What do you think about Kenny?" I asked, abruptly switching the subject.

"I think he's a damn fool," Brian said, in his customary unvarnished response.

"Me, too," I agreed.

I thought for a couple of moments about how I wanted to phrase my next question. "Are you guys mad at Kenny?"

Brian looked to his right, and met my eyes. "If he had a part in our cattle bein' shot, and our fences cut, then, yeah,

I'd be real mad at him."

"He admitted to the fences, but not to anything to do with the cattle, Adam said," I said.

"Right."

"What if he hadn't done anything like that stuff, to hurt us? What if he'd just been helping to capture the Mustangs,

to sell them to the factories? Would you be mad at him then?" I asked.

Brian gave me a telling look. "I'm getting the feeling here that there's a right and wrong answer to this, according

to what you think, peach. Would that be right?"

I shrugged. "I guess," I admitted.

"So, if I don't think that capturing the horses is a wrong thing in itself, you're going to think I'm a callous

jerk, huh?" he asked.

I looked at Brian, bothered that he would say such a thing, or think it.

"I wouldn't think that about you, Bri," I told him. "I'd never think that."

"I hope you wouldn't," Brian said. He gave me a half-smile.

"I know better than that," I said stoutly.

Brian leaned back in his saddle a bit. "Well, then, in answer to your question, I'd still think Kenny was a damn fool

for gettin' involved in doing that to the Mustangs. I think they should be left alone, be respected, and allowed to live the way

they have for hundreds of years. But, I wouldn't think that Kenny should have to have jail time for it. He should be in trouble,

yeah, but not jail. Not at his age. But, bein' involved in cutting fences, and misusing guns, then I think he should have to

have some stiff consequences for that."

"What if it was Guthrie?" I asked.

"Guthrie wouldn't be involved in somethin' hurtful like that. He doesn't have the heart for it," Brian said,

with finality.

"I know he wouldn't," I hastened to explain. "That's not what I meant, exactly. I was just thinking-why some kids

get in trouble, like Kenny's done, and others don't. I mean, even if he needed money, I just can't understand why

he would do all this."

"I don't know, Harlie," Brian said slowly. "Only Kenny knows the real reasons why."

"I guess," I said.

We heard the back screen door flapping, and both looked to see Adam crossing the yard towards us.

"In answer to your last question, about if it was Guthrie, I reckon after I got over the shock, and the hurt of it, I'd

tear him limb from limb," Brian said.

7


	61. Apples, apples, who has the apples?

We rode out after that, thru the pasture, and past the cattle that were left there. These were the cattle that weren't being

sold. The ones left here, in this pasture, were the bred cows, or the ones yet to be bred, since the borrowed bull reigned

supreme over his harem here.

"Out here is where you were?" Brian demanded of me. "In the dark?"

I could tell he was getting wound up to scold me about something.

Before I could respond, he went on, "What about the bull? Did you give him a thought?"

I hadn't. When I'd heard the burro braying, that's where my thoughts had been. But, admitting that I'd

forgotten about the bull, and the possibility that he might have taken out after me, wouldn't win me any points with either one of them.

"Did you?" he persisted.

"Not really," I admitted.

"You just heard somethin', in the middle of the night, and decided to go investigating, huh?" Brian went on.

I gave Adam a side glance, hoping that he would speak up, and save me from Brian's wrath. He could, I thought,

at least tell Brian that he'd already lectured me.

But Adam was silent, only listening, as we rode along.

I gave a heavy sigh.

Brian was on that, immediately. "What's that for?" he demanded. "That big ole sigh? Like you're bein'

oppressed, or somethin'."

"It was dumb, coming out here at night," I said, hoping to mollify him.

"Dumb? Well, that's a mild term for it," Brian acknowledged.

I would have sighed again, but I restrained myself.

"Have you forgotten about the four-wheelers out here?" Brian went on, relentlessly.

I could never forget that horrible night, and how scary it had been, hearing Warrior's distress and not

being able to do anything to help.

"No, I could never forget that!"

"So what in the he-double hockey sticks were you thinkin' then?"

"You don't have to keep hollering at me," I protested. I knew I shouldn't say anything even remotely mouthy, but

I just couldn't help it.

"Oh, I don't, huh?" Brian said, raising an eyebrow in warning.

"I just meant," I tried to explain, "that I know it was dumb. Stupid, even. And dangerous. I just wasn't

thinking."

Brian gave a sort of a 'humph' sound. "It seems to me, then, that you need some more 'hollering',

as you put it. Not less."

"I don't, Bri," I said. This conversation, this ride, this entire morning, were all going downhill at a fast clip.

"What do you think, Adam?" Brian asked, leaning forward in the saddle, and looking across me at Adam. "Think she's had

enough scolding?"

I looked at Adam, hoping he would say the whole thing should be put to rest. But did he say that?

No. Of course not. He instead did his tag-team parenting thing that he and Brian do together.

"I'd say we have some more talking to do about it, no doubt," Adam said.

I nearly felt like bursting with frustration. It was like I was a sandwich. In the middle of them, with both

of them having a go at me.

"I'll think things thru better," I said. "I promise."

They both looked at me, but didn't respond to that, in particular.

"How much further?" Brian asked instead.

"Just a bit," I said, looking around. I pointed to the right. "That's where they were that one morning."

I pulled Charlie to a halt, looking around. "Maybe about right here," I said. "With it being dark, it's hard

to say exactly."

We rode on, and then, just like that, there was the burro. The male. Munching on the grass, as if he

had not a care in the world. About twenty feet away.

"There he is," Brian said. We all came to a halt, watching him.

"Isn't he pretty?" I asked. And I really meant it. The burro was a mixture of gray, and brown, with a bit of

white around his neck.

"Oh, he's lovely," Brian said, sounding amused, and a trifle sarcastic.

"I wonder where the Jenny is," I said, speaking of the female burro that I'd seen the first couple of times.

"She probably high-tailed it back to the herd," Adam said.

"What's left of the herd," I reminded him, thinking that most of the Mustang herd had been rounded up by

the poachers.

Adam looked regretful. "Right," he agreed.

"It seems as though he's made himself real comfortable here," Brian said, eyeing the burro, who had raised his head

to survey our threesome.

"He's really nice," I felt obliged to toss in.

They both gave me matching looks at that comment. Looks that conveyed the message that I was flighty. Goofy. Full of nonsense.

"I'll take this side of the fence to check," Adam told Brian, gesturing to the south fence.

"I'll take the other," Brian said, and rode the opposite way.

I was about to ask Adam which way he wanted me to go, but he said, over his shoulder, "Come on with me."

So I rode along behind him, and we checked the south fence. I was hoping fiercely that we wouldn't find

a hole in the fence anywhere. Because if we did, it would be likely there due to the burro causing it. And then,

that was going to make them even more irritated, and believing that the burro was trouble.

When we didn't find anything, I said, "Good. He didn't do any damage."

"Well, he got here somehow," Adam said.

When we turned back to meet up with Brian, I noticed for the first time that the burro had followed

along behind us. When I pulled Charlie to a stop, the burro stopped, too.

"Look, Adam," I said, not able to help my excitement. I rode a bit forward, and the burro followed. When I stopped

again, then he stopped, watching me.

"Isn't that cool?" I asked.

"Harlie," he said. That was all. But I heard warning in it. Warning me off of what, I wasn't for sure. I decided not

to press Adam at that point.

As Brian came riding towards us, we both pulled our horses to a halt.

"See anything?" Adam asked.

"None down that I can find," Brian said, and I silently said, 'Yea!' in my head.

Brian's gaze settled on the burro, who was paused, about thirty feet from where we sat.

"What's up with him?" he asked.

"He's following us," I said.

"Following the horses, most likely," Brian said.

I didn't think so. I was definite that the burro was following ME, because he recognized me. But, I didn't

say so.

"Since he's wanting to follow and all, we ought to go on and take him back," Brian said.

"Take him back where?" I asked, looking at Brian and feeling an inkling of alarm.

"To the reserve. Where he came from."

"Why?" I asked.

"What do you mean, why?" Brian asked, as if I was making no sense. "Because that's where he

belongs."

"But, the poachers have taken most of the herd by now! He won't have anybody!" I pointed out.

"Anybody?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow at my choice of words.

"Well, anything," I clarified. "He won't have any other burros to be with, or horses!"

"He'll be fine," Brian said.

"He's not hurting anything, though, is he?" I said. "Why can't he just sort of hang around here?"

Adam and Brian exchanged a glance between them. One of those glances that speak without words.

"He's not a domesticated animal, Harlie," Brian pointed out.

"I know."

"He belongs with other wild horses. Other burros," Brian continued.

"But there's none left!" I said.

"There's some yet," Adam said. "They haven't all been captured."

"But-" I began my next protest.

"He's better off in the wild, peach," Brian said.

There was no talking to either one of them! They were both against me. And against the burro.

I tightened my lips together, and determined that I wasn't going to say anything more. I would just have to

hope that if the burro did hang around close to our place, that I could continue getting acquainted with him.

As we rode back towards the house and barn, I was secretly elated that the burro followed along behind

us. Both Brian and Adam used this time, though, to continue telling me about why wild burros didn't belong

on a cattle ranch.

"They compete with livestock for resources," Adam was saying.

"He's just one little burro," I felt inclined to point out. "How much grass could he take from our cows?"

I thought I was being totally logical, but Adam shook his head. "I don't mean just him specifically. I'm talking

in general here."

"But, if he's the only one around-" I began again.

"They spread disease, Harlie," Brian interrupted.

Now that, I did not have an answer for. "They do?" I asked.

"They can," he said.

"What sort of disease?" I asked.

"Salomonella. Rhinovirus."

Well, that gave me pause. Brian did have a point with that particular argument. I decided my best defense was

to be still.

Once back at the pasture, with the cattle, and the other horses, we dismounted, and began unsaddling our

horses. Brian slung his saddle over the corral fence, and began taking off Duke's bridle.

"He's a persistent little cuss, isn't he?" Brian said, eyeing the burro, who was standing there, just watching us.

Once Adam and I were done taking the saddles off of Dandy and Charlie, they cantered off to join Duke, and the

other horses.

They both slung their saddles over their shoulders, while I carried mine, pressed against my middle. Brian was unhooking the

gate so we could walk thru, and there, nearly on our heels, was the little burro.

"What the heck?" Brian exclaimed, in surprise.

"I thought he'd go back out with the horses," Adam said, and made a shooing gesture at the burro with the hand that

wasn't holding his saddle.

The burro skittered back, but just a bit. Then he regarded the three of us with his huge eyes, and took a couple of

steps closer again.

"He acts as though he's goin' thru the gate with us," Brian said.

"Could be he's recognizing Harlie," Adam said.

I had no doubt about that, but I didn't volunteer that information.

"Get back," Brian told the burro, and the three of us went thru the gate, while Brian closed it again, practically

on the burro's nose.

"Good gravy, Gertie," Brian muttered in irritation.

The burro stuck his nose in one of the spaces in the gate. And then he brayed.

"What the-" Adam began.

"Never seen anything like that," Brian said. "Wild critter like that, gettin' so close to people."

"I've never seen anything like it, either," Adam said.

"He acts like he's wanting somethin'," Brian went on puzzling.

I knew without a doubt what the burro was wanting. He was waiting for me to give him an apple.

I decided it was time to make an exit. I toted my saddle on over to the tack shed,

setting it on the saddle stand, and hanging up my bridle. When I came back

out of the shed, Adam and Brian were still standing at the gate, while the burro stuck his braying mouth in

between the fence panels again.

"Harlie, comere," Adam called to me.

I came back over slowly, and as soon as I was nearby, the burro switched his position, withdrawing his

nose from the fence, and walking a few steps closer to where I was. Then he promptly stuck his head

thru again, close enough to breathe on my hand.

"Have you been feeding this burro?" Adam demanded.

"Just a few apples," I said.

"Harlie Marie," Adam said, sounding exasperated.

"Now, he's gonna expect that from you," Brian said. "All the time."

They both obviously thought this was some sort of great catastrophe. I didn't see what a big deal it was, but

they both looked vastly irritated, so I held my tongue.

"He is a wild animal," Adam said, accentuating his words. "You didn't do him any favors by feeding him like that."

The burro began to bray again, louder, and longer. Adam started to say something else, but

couldn't be heard over the braying. He shook his head, looking irritated, and walked on to the tack shed with his

saddle.

The noise was loud enough to reach the ears of others. Evan came from the direction of the barn, followed

by Ford.

"Hey, it's the burro," Ford exclaimed.

More braying. "Good grief, what a racket," Evan said.

Adam came back over, and the five of us stood there, just watching.

"For a little fella, he sure is loud," Ford said, raising his voice so as to be heard.

"I can't hear myself think," Adam said, and headed towards the barn. Brian shook his head, and took his

saddle to the tack shed.

I was letting the burro sniff at my hand when Adam hollered to me again. I turned to look, and he was motioning to me to come over

to where he stood. I went, and once in front of him, he said, "No more apples. No more anything. Don't feed him any

more. Understood?"

I nodded, and said, "Understood."

As the burro brayed yet again, Adam shook his head, and turned to go into the barn.

7


	62. A different sort of donkey

The burro made his presence known throughout the rest of the afternoon. Even when we were inside for lunch,

everybody at the table could hear him, braying and braying.

"I thought Captain Jack was a contrary creature," Ford said, at one point. "This burro wins hands down over

the bird as a contrary sort."

"Maybe he's not trying to be contrary," I felt obligated to point out. "Maybe he's just lonely. Or something," I finished,

as I got various degrees of disapproving attention for my remark.

As if he could hear Ford speaking of him, Captain Jack gave a shriek from the living room. "Peel a banana! Call

the doctor!"

Ford grinned, and so did Evan, obviously thinking that Captain Jack was a real comedian. But nobody else

laughed, or even smiled.

"I'm not gonna be able to take listenin' to that burro's nonsense for long," Brian grumbled.

I stabbed a cherry tomato with my fork, and popped it into my mouth, wishing mightily that Clare was home.

She was always adept at dealing with Brian's grumbly moods, and could usually restore him into a better humor.

Kristin was quiet, and I wondered how her conversation with Adam had gone. And Guthrie was still as silent

as he'd been at breakfast, after hearing about Kenny. Add that to the irritation that Brian and Adam had about the

burro, and well, we were definitely not the most cheerful group at all.

7

After lunch I escaped outside, intent on trying to quiet the burro, if only so that Brian wouldn't

get more irritated.

I crawled over the fence, and stood, waiting. I wondered, since he'd come so close to us earlier, if he was

actually going to come up to me. Or let me come up to him. I decided I didn't have anything to lose at this point.

Before today, I'd been worried about scaring him off. But now that he had stationed himself by our corral

fence, I decided I might as well try.

The burro stood watching me. I took a couple steps closer. He stood his ground.

"Hey, fella," I said, talking in a quiet tone. "Are you gonna let me pet you today?"

Another couple steps. He moved to the left. I stopped.

"You might as well let me touch you," I told him. I stepped closer. By now, I was only a couple of feet from

him. I knew, right at that moment, that if I'd had an apple, or one of the horse treats, that the burro would likely not

hesitate at all. But, with no food or treats to offer, I still wasn't quite certain.

I took a final couple of steps, and then put my hand out, touching his nose. He tolerated it for a moment, and

then, apparently wising up to the fact that I had nothing for him, except for a friendly hand, he backed up,

still watching me.

Well, at least I'd had some success with getting closer. Kristin came walking across the yard, and I crawled

back thru the fence.

"He's getting a lot friendlier, huh?" she asked, reaching the corral.

"Yeah. He still wants his apple, though." I searched her face. "What did Adam say?"

"I get to stay. For tonight, anyway."

"Just tonight?" I asked, seeing the way her expression was all crushed.

"Well, he said since my mom wants me to come home, that I need to listen." Kristin sounded

a bit disenchanted, and I knew she was trying to figure out Adam's line of reasoning.

"I think he did talk to her about Frank, though," Kristin went on. "I don't know what good that will do. She

already knows how I feel, anyway."

"So then tomorrow you go back to your house?" I asked.

"Yeah. I guess so." Kristin gave a heavy sigh. "Sorry to be such a Debbie-Downer," she said. "None of this

is your problem."

"Kristin Louise Atherton," I said, with force. "It is my problem. I share it with you. You're my friend. My

someday sister, remember?"

That, at least, brought a half-smile to Kristin's face. "If we can convince Guthrie to marry me, right?"

"It won't take much convincing," I said, stoutly. "He's crazy about you."

Kristin's pretty face was transformed. By a full-out smile this time.

7

Later on, when Kristin was in the kitchen, happily helping Hannah bake, I went looking for Guthrie.

I had found Ford first, and asked him how his talk had gone that morning with Guthrie.

"He doesn't really feel much like talkin' right now," Ford said. "I just let him know that I'm here, if he decides

that he wants to talk."

"Oh," I said. "Where is he, do you know?"

"Last I saw him, he was working on the Jeep with Daniel."

So I went around the side of the barn, and sure enough, there was Guthrie, with his head stuck into the motor of

the Jeep. Daniel was actually sitting inside of the engine, his head bent down under the hood, and leaning over

to twist a wrench on something.

"Hi," I said, in a general way, to both of them.

"Hey," Daniel said, without looking up from his task.

"Try that," Guthrie said to Daniel, and Daniel turned the wrench again. I have to admit, the

motor of a vehicle is still a mystery to me. Beyond the most basic stuff, like oil checks, and replacing wiper blades,

which Daniel has insisted that I learn.

"How about it?" Guthrie asked.

"Nope," Daniel said, sounding frustrated.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked, mostly in conversation. Not that I would have any real understanding to

the answer.

Daniel knows me well. "Well, the thingy-ma-bob isn't firing correctly, so the thing-a-ma-jig needs some

more lookin' at."

"Ha, ha," I said, giving him a poke in his back. "You're so funny."

"How much longer are you gonna be?" I asked, leaning my head under the hood as well.

"No idea," Daniel said.

"Do you want to go fishing?" I asked Guthrie.

Guthrie kept his attention on the motor. "Nah."

"Why not?" I asked.

"I'm busy."

"Well, how about after you're done helping Daniel then?" I asked.

"No, thanks, Har."

"You can go if you want, Guth," Daniel offered.

"Nah, I'll stick around here and help ya," Guthrie said.

"Well, what about later?" I asked Guthrie.

He didn't answer right away, and I said, "What do you want to do later on?"

"I don't feel like doin' anything," Guthrie said, in answer. And then, for the first time in the conversation, he looked up to

meet my eyes. "Okay?" he asked, a bit softer.

"Oh." I wanted to press Guthrie, to keep on at him until he'd agreed to do something fun. Something that I thought

might take his mind off of Kenny.

But I sensed that would be a mistake. Guthrie was all closed off.

"Okay, then. See you guys later," I said.

"Hey, squirt," Daniel said, as I turned to walk away.

"Huh?" I asked, looking back.

"Some guy called a while ago for you, while I was in the house gettin' a drink."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Bill, somebody. He said he'd call back later on."

"Okay. Thanks," I said.

7

It was later on in the afternoon, and I was just sort of moping around the house. It seemed as though I

just couldn't settle into anything. I felt as though my nerves were on jangly edge. I made a fresh pot of

strong coffee, and stood there while it brewed, and then pouring myself a large cup of it.

I knew I could have stayed in the kitchen, and helped with baking, and hung around with Hannah and Kristin. But,

I just didn't feel like it for some reason. I went to the living room, and sat in one of the recliners, trying to read my

book, and drinking my coffee. Crane was still sitting at the desk, working over the ranch ledgers and every once in

awhile, tearing a check out of the checkbook.

I got up to go refill my coffee cup, and then came back again, picking up my book, and then

flapping it shut. I curled up in the recliner, tucking my legs up underneath me, and guzzling my coffee.

I was just sort of staring into space. I hadn't even realized that I had sighed heavily, until Crane

said, "What's the matter?"

I looked at him in surprise. "What?"

He was turned in his chair, watching me. "I asked you what's the matter," he repeated.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Nothing, huh?" he asked, he asked, raising an eyebrow in obvious disbelief.

I shrugged. "I just feel weird."

"Diabetes weird?" he asked, immediately, looking concerned.

"No, not like that. Just jumpy. On edge. Like I can't concentrate."

"Maybe it has something to do with the three cups of coffee you've sucked down in the last thirty minutes," Crane said

dryly.

"Not three," I protested. "Two. Not three."

Crane nodded towards my 'Carlsbad Caverns' coffee cup, which is giant sized.

"In that cup, it equals at least three from a regular cup," Crane pointed out.

"Statistically speaking, coffee's been proven to be good for a person," I said. "All sorts of health benefits to it."

"Oh, yeah?" he countered, sounding amused.

"Uh huh," I said, with a half-smile at him.

He took off his glasses, laying them on the desk. "I've got to go into town after a while. Do you want to ride

along?"

"Sure," I said, brightening at the prospect of getting out for a while, even if it was only to Murphys.

"Okay. I'm going to put on a clean shirt," Crane said.

"Okay," I said, and scrambled out of the recliner, laying my book on the edge of the desk, and going to put my cup

in the kitchen.

"I'm going with Crane for a while," I told Hannah. "Into town."

"He must be going to pick up the check for the cattle," Hannah remarked, as she leaned down to peer into

the oven, at the cake baking there.

While I was standing there, waiting for Crane to come back downstairs, I told Hannah about earlier, when Bill

had asked me to go out with him.

Hannah straightened, and pushed her hair away from her eyes. "Well, that's nice," she said, managing to sound

pleased, but yet wary at the same time. Like I said, she has this 'mom' thing down.

"Daniel said he already called, too," I said.

"When are you thinking to go out with him?" Hannah asked.

"I don't know. We didn't have time to decide that. I'll have to wait until he calls again, and see," I said.

"You're going to have to talk to your brothers about it first," Hannah reminded me. "You know that."

"I know. I will."

Kristin, who'd been silent up until this point in the conversation, said, "I remember seeing him at the end of the school year. He

was in my Spanish class. He seemed real nice."

Just at that time, I heard Crane calling me from the living room.

"Oh, gotta go," I said. "See you later."

Both Hannah and Kristin told me goodbye, and I bounded into the living room, where Crane was standing

at the desk, gathering up envelopes and papers.

"Don't let me forget to stop at the post office," Crane told me. "Need to buy some stamps to mail all these out."

I glanced at the handful of envelopes he held in one hand.

"Bills?" I asked him.

"Mostly."

We got in the old farm truck, and were chugging along, with the windows down.

"Are you going to pick up the check for the cattle?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Will we be able to pay for everything? Once you put the check in the bank?"

"We'll be doing alright," Crane said, in answer.

After that, he started talking about the fast-approaching school year.

"You ought to be brushing up on your math skills," Crane said. "Taking trigonometry's going to require some real work

on your part."

"Ugh," I said. Just the thought of the trig class made me anxious.

"What's 'ugh'?" Crane demanded.

"Just-ugh," I told him. "I don't like to think about it."

"I get that. But it would be way better for you if you start now. Have Ford help you."

"Okay," I conceded reluctantly.

I thought for a few minutes, and then I asked, "What about another college night class? Can I do that?"

"What class are you thinking about?"

"Well," I considered, "Maybe a history class? What do you think about that?"

"It sounds good." He was looking thoughtful, and then he went on. "Your regular classes come ahead of that, though. You have to

be able to handle the trig class and all the others, and keep up your grades in those."

"I know," I said.

"If you're struggling with those, then you might need to wait on the night class."

"Signups are soon, though," I pointed out. "Right after school starts is when the night classes begin."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Well, if you think you can handle it, then it's alright with me."

"Okay."

I remembered what Miss Noel had said at Adam's birthday bbq.

"Remember what Cindy said?" I asked him. "About that opportunity where I could work at a job in town, and get

credit hours for it?"

"I remember."

"What do you think about that?" I went on talking before he could reply. "I was thinking I could talk to Ivy, about maybe

helping her. Since that's the field of work that I want to go into. And I'd be making a little bit of money, too. Plus getting credit hours."

"It sounds to me like taking on an awful lot," Crane said.

"The working part would be when I would normally be at school anyway," I pointed out. "So that wouldn't be like taking

on too much."

"You'd owe Ivy a hundred percent while you were there."

"I know. I would. Give a hundred percent."

"What about the other part of it?" he asked. "Wasn't part of it, agreeing to maintain all classes at a

certain GPA?"

"Yeah. A 3.5, I think is what Cindy said."

"Your plate would definitely be full," Crane said.

"Yeah," I said, in agreement. I hesitated. "Is it alright, though? If I apply for the program? There's a chance that I

won't be chosen for it, anyway."

"And, there's a chance that you would be chosen," Crane countered.

I waited, watching him. He pulled the visor down to block the sun, and then said, slowly, "I just don't want to see you

take on so much that you aren't able to keep up with things, and then get overwhelmed."

"Well, what if I didn't take a college night class?" I suggested. "Would you agree to me applying for the job program then?"

"You'd rather do that? Then take a night course?" he asked, turning to look at me.

"I'd rather do it all," I admitted. "But, if you're only going to give me permission to do one or the other, then, yeah, I think I'd

like to apply for the program."

"I'm not saying I won't agree. I just want you to stay healthy, and still have some time to relax and all that."

"Okay," I said.

"Let's just table it for right now," he said. "Start working with Ford on that trigonometry and we'll talk about this again

before school starts up. Alright?"

"Okay," I said again.

7

Once in town, Crane went to the sale barn. The auction was mostly over by that time. There were still quite a few ranchers

around though, talking, or pulling their trailers. Once he'd parked the truck, we got out to walk to the office. Just walking that

short distance, we kept seeing other people that we knew. Neighbors, or ranchers from the area.

Crane stopped to talk to a couple of them, and then we went into the air-conditioned office.

Pansy McDowell has taken care of the running of the sale barn office for as long as I can remember. She grew up on a ranch

in the area, then married a rancher. When he died, she sold her ranch, but began working at the sale barn office. I wasn't

certain about her age, but thought she was somewhere near to seventy years old. She's still agile, and quick, and she definitely

knows all there is to know about cattle and the sale barn business.

She greeted Crane with a twinkle in her eye. "I wondered if you or one of those other brothers of yours would be in to

pick up your check."

"Hey there, Pansy," Crane said, smiling at her.

Pansy rambled on to Crane for a few minutes, about how many head of cattle had been brought in for the sale that morning,

and how the auctioneer got an emergency call from his pregnant wife.

"So when the call came in for Clive, saying his wife was needing to head to the hospital, we had to have Earl Johnson fill

in for the rest of the sale."

"That's good news, about Clive's baby," Crane said.

"It surely is," Pansy agreed. "Let's hope it's a boy this time. Four girls they have already."

She began to sort thru the sealed envelopes lying on her desk. "McFadden, McFadden," she muttered to herself, and then

she handed it across the counter to Crane, with a flourish. "There you go. You did fine today, Crane. Got a good price for your

cattle."

"Couldn't have better news than that," Crane said, taking the envelope and smiling at Pansy.

As they left the sale barn lot, to walk back to the truck, there was more people saying hello.

Crane stood beside the truck, opening the envelope, and looking at the check inside.

"Was she right?" I asked. "It's good?"

"It's good."

We drove out onto the highway, and then on to Angels Camp, where Crane parked in front of the bank.

"I'll just be a few minutes," he told me. "You coming in with me?"

"I'll stay out here," I said, and began rooting thru the console.

"What are you looking for?" Crane asked.

"There was some tootsie pop suckers in here."

I began pulling out feed receipts, sticks of gum that had gotten hard with age, cattle ear tags, and a bunch of other

miscellaneous stuff.

"Look at this mess," I said, as Crane was getting out of the truck.

"Don't just throw it all on the floor of the truck," Crane told me, and went on up the bank steps.

He was back, as promised, within a few minutes. I thought he looked relieved, and I figured it was because

there was a bit of financial breathing room, for a change.

We drove back to Murphys, and he parked in front of the post office. He went in to buy stamps, and mail all

the bills.

Once back behind the steering wheel, he said, "Want to get a chocolate shake?"

I considered. "We could go to the café. Say hi to Marie. And get a piece of pie."

"Sounds good to me," he agreed.

So we drove the short distance to the café. Marie, predictably, was glad to see us. Even though it was way after the

noon hour, there were still quite a few people eating. Crane waved at a couple of people, as Marie came over to

greet us.

"Hello there, tall man," she greeted Crane, with affection.

To me, she slipped an arm around my waist. "How's my girl?" she asked.

"Fine," I told her.

"What can I get for the two of you?" she asked, as we sat down in the first booth, near the door.

"Coconut pie?" Crane asked her, hopefully.

"Alright, and how about you?" she asked me.

"Um," I hesitated, thinking. "Strawberry shortcake. If you have it."

"Coming right up," Marie said, and bustled away, calling out a greeting to someone else that was coming in.

Crane and I took our time eating our dessert, and we both had refills on our sweet tea. I was enjoying my time

with him. He was a lot more relaxed appearing, since we had some money in the bank.

I didn't notice at first when he came into the café, and sat down at the front counter. He seemed really unsteady on

his feet, and nearly missed the stool.

"Crane, look," I said, quietly. "It's Frank. Kristin's stepfather. You saw him that one time, remember?"

Crane gave a quick glance, and took another drink of tea.

Frank talked loudly to Marie for a couple of minutes, and Marie set a cup of something in front of him.

I took in Frank's appearance, from the back. His shirt was untucked, and his hair was sticking up.

He got up after taking a few sips from the cup, and stood there, seeming unsteady. His gaze swept around

the café, and then he seemed to see Crane and I sitting there.

He began to make his way around the tables towards us.

"He's coming over here," I told Crane in a low voice.

Crane gave a glance, but seemed unconcerned.

When Frank had made it to our booth, he leaned against it with one hand.

"You McFaddens like to mix into things that got nothin' to do with you, isn't that right?" His voice was loud. Really loud.

7


	63. Frank the Freak

I instantly felt all my hackles raise, at Frank's tone of voice. I wondered what in the world was he talking about. Now that he was

so much closer, I saw how much worse that he looked. His hair was all dirty looking, and sticking up in tufts, and his face

was scraggly from not shaving. His shirt and his pants were both filthy. And not like the clothes I'm used to seeing my brothers

wearing after a day of work around the ranch. Frank's clothes just looked disgusting. As if he had been wearing them for a week or more.

I looked quickly to Crane, wondering what he thought about how Frank had approached us. Crane had been taking a drink from

his glass of iced tea as Frank came over, and he set it down now, looking at Frank. He wasn't showing any sort of reaction, though.

Frank leaned his hand against our table, and leaned down. The smell of alcohol was strong.

"High and mighty McFaddens," Frank said. "Think you can do whatever you please."

I looked to Crane again. Surely he would say something now. Surely he would demand to know what Frank was

blathering on about.

But he didn't. Crane was still silent, although I recognized by the set of his jaw that he was on his guard.

"What is it with you McFaddens?" Frank demanded.

He was getting louder. Other people were starting to notice, too, and were watching us. Most of them were pretending to

not watch, but I could tell that they were.

"What can I do for you, Frank?" Crane asked. His tone was quiet, but strong.

"So you know my name, do you?" Frank demanded, leaning down even closer.

"I do," Crane said.

"Course you do," Frank said. "You know all about me and my wife, don't ya?"

Crane was quiet again, regarding Frank was a steady gaze.

"Think you're able to tell other folks how to run their lives," Frank said, louder yet.

"This isn't the place to have this conversation," Crane said.

"I think it's as good a place as any other to have it!" Frank argued. He took his fist and banged it on the table,

jostling the glasses.

I was so startled that I winced when he did that. And drunk though he was, Frank noticed when I did.

He turned his bleary-eyed gaze to me.

"You and that brother of yours-you've been putting ideas in Kristin's head!" Frank accused.

I assumed he meant Guthrie, and I sat up straight, ready to do battle, and answer him back.

"You-" I began heatedly, only to have Crane interrupt me, mid-word.

"Let's go, Harlie," he said, standing up. Frank took a step or two to the left, which put him more in

front of my seat. It wasn't so easy for me to slide out of the booth.

Crane stepped, and edged Frank out of the way, reaching down to take my arm, and pulling me to my feet. He kept

his body between Frank and I, and kept his hand on my arm.

We were at the counter by the time Frank got his bearings, and Crane was pulling cash from his wallet, handing it

to Ginger, the waitress. Marie stood to the other side of Ginger, her forehead wrinkled in concern.

Frank ambled our way again. I knew, because even though I hadn't turned around, I could tell because he bumped

into a chair on his way.

"We're gonna have this out, here and now!" Frank said, coming up on the other side of Crane.

"Frank Mason, you stop this nonsense right now," Marie ordered, sounding furious.

"Don't concern you none, Marie," Frank told her.

"You're acting like a horse's ass in my café, so it does concern me," Marie told him.

"We'll see you, Marie," Crane told her, and Marie nodded to him. Crane headed out the door, his

hand in the center of my back.

Frank came out after us, and reached out to grab at Crane's arm.

"I'm not done talkin' to you, McFadden," Frank said.

Crane paused, looking pointedly at Frank's hand on his arm.

"You've got Linda's girl where she don't even want to be with her mother!" Frank accused.

"It's you that she doesn't want to be around!" I said, from my spot on Crane's opposite side.

"You watch your mouth, missy," Frank said, giving me a glare.

"Why would she want to be around you?" I rushed on. "You're nothing but a dirty-"

"Harlie, go on and get in the truck," Crane said, speaking over me again.

I stopped, my breath coming hard in temper. One look at Crane, though, and I knew I'd best not argue with him, or

even say another word.

I went to the truck, and stood beside the passenger door, turning to watch, and listen.

Crane didn't look my way to see if I'd listened. And it was for that very fact that I went on and opened the door,

and climbed in. He'd meant it. And, with the windows down, I could still hear some of what was being said.

Crane was at least a head taller than Frank. And, while Frank was stocky, I knew that it was likely not muscle, but

fat. That wasn't what worried me. I knew Crane could take care of himself, if need be.

He shook Frank's hand from his arm, as if he were no more than a pesky fly. And then I heard him say something

about the situation being between Kristin and her mother.

Frank droned on about how Kristin's mother was all upset by Kristin's desire to stay at our house.

Then he began again on how the McFadden family thought they were above others, and could tell people how to

conduct themselves.

Crane told him something along the lines of not having anything further to say about it all. He turned to head towards

our truck, and Frank lunged for him, trying to grab Crane's arm again.

Crane side-stepped out of the way, and Frank nearly lost his balance, drunk as he was. He stumbled forward, managing

to catch himself.

I couldn't help but wish that he would have gone on and fallen completely down to the ground.

Nearly falling that way seemed to infuriate Frank even more. He stood up, and stepped towards Crane, his

fist doubled. I watched, enthralled, as Crane stepped aside yet again, and Frank's punch landed in empty air.

"Dumb-ass," I muttered to myself.

And then, as Frank seemingly prepared to launch yet another punch towards Crane, he was stopped by

Crane's hand wrapping around Frank's wrist.

I heard Crane say something about him going home to sober up, and then he turned Frank loose with a hard shake.

Then he turned and came to the truck, getting in and slamming the door. Frank seemed startled for a few moments, and

then, as Crane started the motor, and prepared to back up, Frank yelled out something. I couldn't catch every

word, but it was definitely a threat.

We drove out of Murphys, and we were a mile or so out of town before either one of us spoke at all.

"Wow," is what I said first.

"Right," Crane said.

"What an ass," I said.

Crane was silent, and I said, "I don't see why Kristin has to go home! Why should she have to be around that

drunken bastard?!"

"Thinking that way isn't going to change anything," Crane said. "And it's sure not going to help."

"Why is he blaming our family?" I went on, still fuming. "He needs to blame himself!"

"He's an alcoholic. They need somebody else to blame," Crane said.

"You could have knocked him on his butt," I said. "Why didn't you?"

"What would that have proven?" Crane countered. "That I'm capable of putting a drunk on the ground?"

What he said was true. I was suddenly ashamed of myself. Not for wishing Frank had been taken down a peg or two. But,

ashamed for thinking that Crane would do something like hit him, when it wasn't really necessary.

"You're right," I said, and just like that, I felt my temper slide away, and I was left feeling only sadness for Kristin.

We were pulling up into our driveway when Crane said, "I don't see that it serves any purpose to tell Kristin about what

happened in town. Agreed?"

I nodded at him. "Agreed."

7

For that matter, we hadn't needed to worry about telling, or not telling, Kristin anything at all. She was already gone,

Hannah said, when we went into the house. Her mother had called again, and then driven over to pick her up.

I stood there in the kitchen while she was telling Crane and I that, and I felt a pit begin in my stomach.

"Does Guthrie know that she left?" I asked Hannah.

"Yes. He knows," Hannah said.

Crane had gone to retrieve a glass, and was pouring tea.

"Oh," I said, feeling badly, thinking about Kristin.

"What's wrong?" Hannah asked, pausing in her task of chopping up celery.

I looked at Crane, and he said, "Frank was throwing his weight around in town."

"Oh," Hannah said. She obviously sensed that there was way more to the story than Crane's comment, but she

didn't ask any more questions about it.

"Did you get the check for the cattle?" she asked him, instead.

"Yeah. All deposited."

"Did we do alright?" she asked.

"Real well," Crane said, and Hannah gave a smile that showed relief.

"Good."

7

After that, Crane went outside to work, and I went to the basement to put more clothes from the washer into the dryer. I

was glad when I went back upstairs to find that Clare had gotten home from her short shift at the hospital. She was

sitting with her feet propped up on the footstool, eating a bowl of grapes.

"Hi, toots," she greeted me.

"Hi."

"Grapes were on sale. I got a bunch of them. Go get yourself some," she told me.

We rarely have grapes, since they're so expensive, so it didn't take much convincing on her part. I went to

grab a bowlful of grapes and came back to the living room.

We were sitting there, just talking. The living room was cool, with the ceiling fans all going.

Brian must have come in thru the back door, because he walked into the living room from the direction of the

kitchen, popping the tab on a can of beer.

"Hey, darlin'," he greeted Clare. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss.

They talked for a couple of minutes to each other, and then Brian, still standing behind the couch, tapped the

back of my head.

"Some kid's called here twice for you," he told me.

I twisted to look up at him. "Yeah?" I asked, pleased.

"Yeah. Bill somebody."

"It's the boy that was here helping with the cattle," I told him.

"Him?" Brian asked, managing to sound as though he wasn't impressed.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked, sitting up straight and looking at him.

"Don't get all indignant on me," Brian said. "I didn't say a word against him." He tapped the back of my head again. "I didn't say

a word for him, either."

"Funny, Bri," I said. "Did he say if he was going to call back?"

"No, he didn't say." Brian went around to sit in the recliner nearest to the couch. "You're not goin' out with anybody

that we haven't met first, you know."

"You met him," I pointed out. "When he was here with his father, helping load the cattle."

"Nope," he said, in dismissal of my point.

I sighed in defeat, and got up.

"You don't have to go," Clare told me, looking sympathetic. "Brian's just teasing."

"I've got to do my chores," I said.

"Good idea," Brian said. "And, I'm not teasing. I'm serious. If he wants to take you out on a date, he needs to

come over here and let us look him over first."

"Yes, Bri," I said, in a respectful enough tone, while rolling my eyes where he couldn't see.

7

"That doesn't mean you need to take off, tearing around in this heat, just to see where he's gotten to."


	64. Coming together

The rest of the day passed, and Bill didn't call again. I knew even while I was outside, that somebody inside the house would

answer the phone, and let me know. Clare or Hannah would have called me inside. But, they didn't have to. Because he didn't call

again.

I puzzled over while we ate a cold supper of sandwiches. Guthrie was still silent, seemingly preoccupied. I knew he was

thinking about Kristin, and her home situation, or about Kenny. Maybe he was thinking about both of those.

My own mind was full, too. I kept thinking back to Frank, and how badly I felt about how Kristin had to be in that

situation. To be honest, thinking about Bill had helped take my mind off of Kristin, and Kenny, too.

There was a knock at the front door, while we were still at the table, and Ford got up to go see who it was, his sandwich in his

hand. We could hear him talking to someone in the living room, their voices mixing together.

"Who's that?" Hannah asked, looking down the table at Adam.

"Sounds like Hal," Adam said, mentioning the sheriff by name.

"Let's see what he has to say," Brian said, scooting his chair away from the table, and standing up.

Nearly everybody filed into the living room after Adam and Brian. Well, except for Clare, who began on the dishes, and Daniel, who

took the spot beside her at the sink, to dry them. Well, and Guthrie, who kept his seat at the table, still eating, and not looking as

though he gave a tinker's damn what the sheriff had to say in the other room.

I figured that it had something to do with updating about the case, since Kenny would have been to talk to the sheriff's department

by now.

I stayed where I was, too, next to Guthrie, and finishing up my fruit salad that Hannah had made to go along with the

sandwiches we'd had.

"Don't you want to hear what they're saying?" I asked Guthrie, quietly.

"If I did, I'd be in there, too," Guthrie said.

"Oookaaay," I said, in exaggeration.

"She was just askin' a question, Guth," Daniel remonstrated, from where he leaned against the counter, facing us as he

dried a plate.

Guthrie flicked a look towards Daniel, and then took a long drink of his tea, sitting his glass down harder than he needed to.

"You don't need to be givin' me a lecture, Daniel," Guthrie said, in a tone that suggested a challenge.

"I wasn't givin' a lecture," Daniel said.

I looked at Daniel then, too. He was still making the pretense of drying the plate, but his expression was hard on Guthrie.

"Sounded like it," Guthrie said.

"Nope. Just pointing out that you don't need to act like an ass, is all," Daniel said.

"You know what, Daniel?" Guthrie said, scraping his chair back and standing up. "You don't need to tell me anything!"

And, with that, Guthrie stomped out the back door, letting it flap shut with a slam.

Clare had turned around by this time, too, and she looked at Daniel and then at me. And then she shook her head

a little, her eyes wide.

"Wow," she said.

Daniel put the dried plate away in the cabinet, and reached for another one to dry.

"Maybe I ought to try talking to him," I said, considering.

I could tell by the expression on Daniel's face that he didn't think that was too good of an idea.

"You don't think I should?" I asked him.

"Not right now," Daniel said. "If I were you, I'd just leave him be for awhile."

Clare turned back to the sink of dishes. "So much going on," she said.

I got up and took my plate to the sink, and then I went to the edge of the living room, leaning against the wall, and

listening. It was the sheriff, Hal, with one of his deputies. I couldn't remember if it was the one that couldn't ride horseback, or the

other one.

They were all standing in sort of a semi-circle, talking, except for Evan, who was sitting on the arm of one of the couches.

From the conversation, I determined that there had been two arrests made already that morning. Wow, I thought. That had

been fast. Kenny had supplied some names, and thru the two arrests, there was more connections being made.

"Still a lot more questions to be answered," the sheriff was saying. "But at least we're making some progress now."

They talked a few more minutes, and then Hal and the deputy left, with Hal saying something about keeping us all updated.

When they'd gone, Crane shut the front door, and then he, and everybody else, just sort of stood there, in the quiet

for a long few moments.

"Well," Crane said.

"Yeah," Adam said. "They're figuring it out, it sounds like."

"And Kenny helped that along," Brian added. He sounded as if he was thinking. Considering. He looked at me, where

I stood, leaning against the wall, my hands folded behind my back.

Everybody began to separate then. Adam held a hand out to Hannah, and asked her if she wanted to take a walk.

Evan passed by me, heading back to the kitchen. To finish his sandwich, I figured.

Brian came to where I stood, and paused beside me. "You alright, peach?" he asked me.

"I guess," I said.

The evening sort of went downhill after that. I tried calling Kristin, but Frank answered, and I ended up just hanging up

on him, without saying a word. I couldn't bring myself to ask him to call Kristin to the phone.

I called Lori and talked for awhile, just to sort of feel as if I had a link to the outside world. To talk about stuff that had nothing

to do with Kristin's bad home situation, or about the whole debacle surrounding the Mustangs, and Kenny's involvement in it.

Nancy had driven over after work, and she and Evan and Ford were watching a movie on television. Adam was sitting on the couch,

holding Isaac. Crane and Daniel had gone out somewhere with Cindy and one of her friends. Hannah and Clare were upstairs, sorting thru one of the closets.

Brian had gone outside again. Which left Guthrie. And I had no idea where he had gotten to. I sat down beside Adam for awhile, playing with

Isaac, and then I got up to go outside, too.

I began looking around for Guthrie, looking in all the obvious places. He wasn't on the front porch, or by the corral, or in the barn. Though I

did find Brian in the barn, where he had his saddle over a saddle rack, and was cleaning it.

I stood at the barn door for a couple of moments, watching him, until he took notice of me standing there.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi."

I came over to stand closer to him, leaning against one of the stall walls, continuing to watch him as he worked. Brian is the sort of

person who does things quickly generally, but while he was polishing the saddle, his movements were slow, and methodical.

After a few moments of silence between us, Brian spoke up. "You were right about Kenny," he said, quietly.

I met his eyes across the saddle. "Yeah," I said, just as quietly.

"I should've listened a little closer to you," he said.

He sounded regretful, and I shook my head. I didn't want him to feel badly.

"It's okay, Bri." I shrugged. "You didn't want to think it of Kenny."

"Nope. I didn't," he said, and sighed.

After a bit more silence, I said, "I don't know how to help Guthrie."

Brian looked thoughtful. "Its tough," he finally said.

"Hand me that rag, will ya?" he asked me, gesturing towards a shelf behind me. I turned to look, and picked up the worn towel. I handed it

to him, and he dipped a corner of it in the saddle soap.

"Do you think I should try talking to him?" I asked, rubbing at the smoothness of the saddle horn. "Or leave him alone? That's what

Daniel said."

"I don't see as it's wrong to try talkin' to him," Brian said. "You two have always had somethin' special between you. Just go easy.

Don't crowd him. Let him be the one to bring it up."

What Brian said made good sense. I nodded. "Okay. Do you know where he is?"

"He told me he was gonna take a walk. That was awhile ago. Maybe check at the creek?" he suggested. "I think that's where he was heading to."

And then, we heard the braying of the burro. He'd been quiet for a bit, and hadn't been up near the horses for most of the day.

"And, he's back," Brian said dryly.

I couldn't help my smile at his dry tone.

I went out thru the pasture, to give the burro a greeting. Still, there was no sign of the Jenny.

"How are you, huh, boy?" I asked him.

The burro regarded me with those huge eyes. Waiting, obviously, for an apple, or a horse treat.

"I'm not supposed to feed you, fella," I said. Then, thinking, I scooped up a bit of hay that was on the ground, that had

been trampled by the other horses.

I held it out to the burro. Technically, it wasn't feeding him, I justified. After all, the burro could have eaten the hay himself. Holding

it out was only to reinforce to him that I was his friend, and that he could trust me.

The burro sniffed at the hay, and then, not impressed, he took a step or two backward, and gave me a look as if to say, 'you're kidding'.

I began to walk on down towards the creek, and as I was about to follow the worn path, and the barn and house were out of sight, I

looked back. The burro was trotting along, following me. I smiled in satisfaction, and made my way on down to the creek.

It was cooler as I approached. It's always cooler at the creek, with all the trees for shade over the water.

I trekked my way thru the taller grass, and then, when I spotted Guthrie, I stopped, watching him. He was just sitting at the

edge of the creek. I walked closer, studying him from the back. He was sitting cross-legged, tugging at tufts of grass.

I was nearly up upon him, when he looked up.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Hey."

"It's cool here," I said, in conversation.

"Yeah."

A bit of silence, and then I thought about asking him if I could sit down next to him. Then, I decided that was stupid. So,

I just sank to the ground next to him, cross-legged, without asking.

I stayed quiet, though. Partly, I was remembering Brian's advice to go easy. And also, it was more what I sensed that I should do.

I began to pick up small pebbles, tossing them into the water, and watching the rings grow larger.

It was Guthrie who finally spoke again. "Have you talked to Kristin?" he asked me.

"No. I tried calling, but he answered the phone, and so I just hung up." There was no need to identify the 'he' of which I spoke.

"Ass," Guthrie muttered.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I asked Crane why he didn't just knock him on his butt. He said that wouldn't prove anything, except that he

could do it."

"I guess that's right," Guthrie said.

"Yeah. I still wish he would have done it though," I said, and Guthrie flicked a glance at me. There was a glimmer of

amusement in his eyes.

"Not me," he said.

"How come?" I asked.

"'Cause I wouldn't have been there to see it," Guthrie said, and I giggled.

7


	65. Talk around town

Guthrie and I hung around at the creek for the rest of the evening. It wasn't so hot now. The afternoon heat had dissipated, and

under the shade of the trees, it was really comfortable. We had a rock skipping contest, which Guthrie won. No surprise there. I'd never quite

mastered the art of rock skipping, even though my brothers have definitely tried to school me in it over the years.

Finally, I gave it up, and went to sit on the very edge of the bank, letting my feet dangle in the water.

"Come on," Guthrie urged me. "I'll show you what you're doin' wrong."

"Nope," I said. "I give up. You're way better at it than me."

"Well, sure I am," Guthrie said, sounding almost lighthearted. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed hanging out with Guthrie, just

the two of us.

Guthrie came over closer to me. "Want to head back to the house?" he asked me.

"Let's stay awhile longer," I said.

If I was to admit it, I dreaded leaving the creek because even though Guthrie was still quieter than usual, he wasn't

as angry appearing as he'd been lately. I thought once we got back to the house, he might get all tense and grumpy again.

"Okay," Guthrie said, flopping to the ground beside me. He laid on his back, folding his arms underneath his head, and looking

up thru the trees.

"You're going to be a senior in high school," I said, in conversation. "It's hard to believe."

"Yeah," Guthrie said, in agreement. "It is, sort of."

"Do you think Trent will get a scholarship to play college football?" I asked him.

"He might. He's good enough to."

After a few moments of peaceful silence, Guthrie said, "I wish Kristin didn't have to be in that hell-hole of a house."

"Me, too."

"Frank was pretty drunk, huh? When you and Crane saw him in town?" he asked.

"About like he usually is. He wasn't slurring his words or anything like that. Just bumping into a table, and generally acting

like a dumbass," I said.

"I really hate that guy," Guthrie said.

I looked over at him. He was still looking upwards, at the sky thru the trees. His voice as he said it had been quiet. So very quiet.

"Me, too," I said again.

It was a while after that, it, the sun had begun to lower, and we heard a shrill whistle.

"Hey!" hollered a voice from still some distance away.

Guthrie and I exchanged a look, and at exactly the same moment, said together, "Evan."

When Evan appeared atop the bank, looking down at us, he said, "You could have answered me, you know. Kept me from

walkin' all the way down here."

"What would we wanna do that for?" Guthrie asked, mischievously.

Evan came down the bank, and stood over both of us. "It would have been the polite thing to do," he said, and I grinned

at him.

"You need the exercise, Ev."

"Oh, I do, huh?" he demanded, giving me a steely glance.

"I'm only thinking of you," I said, purposely making my tone all sugary and sweet.

"I could get some exercise by tossin' you in the water," he threatened. "How about that?"

He made a pretend grab for me, and I retaliated by fastening my hands around one of his legs. He kept trying to

dislodge me, shaking his leg, until finally he and I were both winded.

"Okay, that's it," he said. "Turn loose. I'm tired of monkeying around with you."

I turned loose, laughing.

"Why were you lookin' for us, anyhow?" Guthrie asked him.

"Just makin' sure you were down here. Hannah was worried 'cause you've been gone so long. I told her I'd come and see if

you children were safe."

"Who you callin' children?" Guthrie asked, from his position looking up.

I was so relieved to hear Guthrie joking around with Evan that way, that I felt my heart tighten.

Guthrie and I got up, and we all started back towards the house.

"If you were gonna spend all damn day down here, the least you could have done was bring the poles, so you could have caught

a few fish," Evan was saying as we walked.

"You can cast a pole the same as I can," Guthrie responded, and they mock-scuffled for a few steps.

I wanted to keep Guthrie's good mood continuing. "I've got an idea," I said, bouncing my way in between them as

we walked. "Let's play cards or something."

Neither one of them responded, and I gave Evan a poke in the ribs. "Okay?" I prompted him.

"I'm tired," he complained.

"Ok, old man," I said, hoping to goad him into agreeing.

"Yep. That's it. An old man," Evan said, seemingly unbothered.

"I bet Nancy will want to play a game," I persisted.

"She left. She has an early shift in the morning," Evan said.

"Oh." I was disappointed that I hadn't gotten to spend any time with Nancy.

Once back at the house, Guthrie went inside to get something to eat. I situated myself in the hammock, with Fat Clarence. Our hammock is

one of those really big ones, oversized, made of white canvas.

After a few minutes, Ford came out the back door, and came over to the hammock. He had a bowl of popcorn in his hand.

He started the hammock swinging with his empty hand.

"Are Crane and Daniel home yet?" I asked him.

"Not yet."

"Is Guthrie coming back out?" I asked.

Ford shrugged, his mouth full of popcorn.

"Guth-reee!" I hollered towards the screen door leading to the kitchen.

"What?" Guthrie hollered back, sticking his head out.

"Come back out when you get your food!" I told him.

Guthrie's head disappeared.

"He seems better," Ford said, low.

"Yeah," I said, and Ford made a move to sit down in the hammock alongside of me.

"Move over," he ordered.

"Forrrd-" I protested, but I tried to scooch over to make room.

When he'd gotten into the hammock, he kept one foot on the ground, and kept it swinging.

Guthrie came back out, and sat in a lawn chair, eating his cake. But, he only stayed for a few minutes, and then said he was

going up to bed.

"G'night," he said, getting to his feet.

"Night," Ford said, and I answered, "'Night, Guth."

When he'd gone, Ford and I sat in the hammock, mostly in silence, for awhile.

He kept munching on that popcorn, until the temptation was too much for me, and I reached over to grab some.

It was starting to get dusk by now.

"Before I came into the living room, did the sheriff say what was going to happen to Kenny?" I asked Ford.

"No. He wouldn't have been able to say," Ford said.

"Why?" I asked.

"He probably doesn't know for sure. That would be up to a judge. And, he wouldn't say anyway. That's private

information."

I hadn't thought about where Kenny would be at, right at that very moment.

"Do you think Kenny's at home, though? Right now, I mean?" I asked. "He wouldn't have had to go to detention, or jail yet, would he?"

"I don't know, Har."

I couldn't understand my own feelings. I had spent most of the summer being angry at Kenny, and being certain that he'd

hurt my dog. Which, more than likely, he had. But now, when I thought of him, and the way that he'd been crying so hard

when he was talking to me, well, it made me feel all weird inside. Sort of sad for him.

I told Ford all of that, and asked him what he thought.

He held out the bowl of popcorn towards me, offering more, and when I reached over to take another handful, he said,

"You feel like that because you're a good person."

I munched, studying Ford's profile in the dusk, as he continued. "Even though Kenny did what he did, you don't like to

think of him hurting."

"I wonder what Guthrie really thinks," I mused. "Whether he's mad at Kenny, or hasn't decided how he feels. He didn't

talk about it this afternoon. And Brian said to let him be the one to bring it up."

"I don't know what he's thinking," Ford said.

I sighed, and after that, when Ford offered me more of the popcorn, I said no. I laid there, watching as the stars began

to pop out in the sky. Eventually, Ford stopped using his foot to swing the hammock with, and we were just still.

7

The next morning at breakfast, Adam did some talking to everybody about how well we'd done with the cattle selling.

And then we all got a check. Every one of us. Except for Clare, and Hannah, since they shared in with Brian and Adam's. But the

rest of us got our own. By now, everybody except for Guthrie and I turned right around and chipped some money back into

the household again. Ford doesn't do a lot, really, since he's in college and has expenses for that. But the others all help pay

for utilities, and feed, and house repairs, and all of that stuff. I knew that even when Daniel is in Tennessee, he sends money

home regularly.

And I was fairly certain that all the money they tossed into the household bills wasn't always equal, but the point is, everybody

does their share.

Since Guthrie and I are still underage and all that, we don't have to give back any of our earnings to the household bills. Of course, we

don't get nearly as much as the older guys. And Adam always tells Ford to keep all his, too. But, we're expected to be cautious with the money,

since it's a long time again before we sell any more cattle. Sometimes Guthrie and I buy our own clothes for the start of the new school year. And sometimes, we

don't. It just depends on what else we want to use the money for, and if we've had an especially lucrative season.

All in all, I was surprised, and really glad about the amount on my check.

So that was a good start to the day. And considering all the news we'd had lately, it was welcome.

Evan said after lunch he was going to go to town and put his check in the bank, and I asked if I could ride along with him to

do mine. Then Ford and Guthrie chimed in, and so it was a full truck cab of us that headed into town later. As usual, I was the

one who got the short end of things. I was squeezed tightly in between Ford and Guthrie, while Evan drove.

I had that other money, from Karissa, the fifty dollars that she'd sent in the mail to me. I'd never put it in the bank like I told

Adam that I would, and I'd nearly forgotten about it. So I brought that along, intent on putting it into my savings account.

Once in Angels Camp, and finished at the bank, we climbed back into the truck, driving the short distance to the

gas station. Then we piled out again, and while Evan was filling up his truck with gas, the three of us went into the gas station,

and got a bottle of pop out of the old cooler near the back. While we were paying for that, and waiting on Evan to come inside, I

was listening to the buzz of gossip. Which was, naturally enough, about the two arrests that had been made by the sheriff's office.

There were several older ranchers, just standing around, shooting the breeze, as Brian would say.

Names were popping up, of the two people who'd been arrested. One of their identities was not known, and names were being

tossed back and forth in speculation as to who it was.

One such speculated upon person was Seth Foreman. I heard that, and felt Guthrie looking at me. I didn't look back at him. It's not as though I cared

about Seth. I didn't.

The group of men began discussing the various acts of property damage that had occurred, the run over fences, and tire ruts in fields, and all of that.

By now, Evan was inside, too, and, having paid for his gasoline, he was over picking thru the cold bottles of pop. He pulled out a

grape Nehi, and went to pay the cashier for that.

One of the men, who supposedly had a nephew-in-law that worked for the sheriff's department, was stating with certainty

that it was Kenny, who'd given the names. Which we, McFaddens, had known already. But, to hear it out and out like that, I was sure

would bother Guthrie.

The man went on to talk about Kenny's involvement, and there was some general tsk-tsk about how it was a shame that Kenny

was putting his parents thru such an ordeal.

Guthrie, silently, and without any show of emotion, went outside without saying a word, letting the screen door of the gas station flap

shut behind him, the bell jingling overhead.

I looked at Ford, who shook his head, looking sorrowful.

And then, when we probably would have gone on out to join Guthrie and head for Murphys, those men started talking about the

Mustangs. It seemed to be the general consensus of the group that the Mustangs were a big nuisance. I listened and came to the

conclusion that most of them, without the exception of maybe two men, didn't care at all about the Mustangs being ran, or captured

for selling at the dog food factories. They wanted the case settled, obviously, but only because of the lost time fixing the fences that

had been trampled and all of that.

I was filled with righteous indignation. I listened, filling my temper rise.

Obviously, my brothers know me well.

"Let's go," Evan said, and he and Ford began to file out of the station, walking around the group. I knew Evan was suggesting we get

going so that I wouldn't get all steamed.

I stood where I was. What a bunch of ignorant men! Talking about the Mustangs that way.

"Those horses aren't bothering anybody," I heard myself saying. "They're just trying to survive."

I was regarded with several pairs of eyes. A couple of the men, which consisted of a group of five, looked somewhat amused

at my statement.

"You're a crusader, are you, little lady?" one of them asked me.

Before I could respond to him, one of the others turned a steely glance onto me. This one didn't look in the least bit

amused.

"Maybe you shouldn't oughta mix into a conversation that doesn't concern you, young lady," he said.

"The Mustangs do concern me," I said.

He glared at me. I thought I'd seen him around Murphys, but I wasn't sure of his name.

"A conversation that ain't your business then," he amended.

I had my mouth open to tell him that the preservation of the Mustangs was everybody's business, but Evan was at my elbow.

I hadn't even noticed him coming back over to where I stood.

"Come on," Evan said, quietly.

I shot him a look and got ready to protest, but then, just as quickly, I closed my mouth. The look he was giving _me_

made me hush. He didn't look mad or anything. Just more, intractable, I guess is the right word. He had every intention that

I was going to do what he told me. And, since I didn't relish the idea of him picking me up and toting me out, or yanking me

along behind him, I started walking to the door.

"Kids don't know when to mind their tongue. Downright disrespectful," the man said. The one that had gotten all huffy.

"Oh my gosh," I muttered, and turned around to give him a scathing look.

Evan gave me another push, right in the center of my back. And it wasn't too gentle of a push, either.

"Ev-" I protested.

"Just go," he said.

We were outside now, in the bright sun, and the door was flapping shut behind us.

Evan still had his hand on me, and I tried to shrug it off. "You don't have to shove," I informed him.

"It seemed like the best idea," Evan responded. "Shootin' off your mouth like that."

I stopped and turned to look at him incredulously. "You aren't saying that you agree with those buffoons!"

"Of course I don't. But you doesn't mean you need to be rowdying things up."

I muttered to myself as we all crowded back into Evan's truck. Guthrie was already there, sitting against the passenger door.

I looked at him, as I slid across the seat. He was drinking from his bottle of pop, and looking out the window, so I couldn't see

his entire expression.

We drove along in silence for a few miles, and then, nearly back to Murphys, Ford said, "It's big news right now. So people all around

here are bound to be talking about it."

"Yeah," Evan said, in agreement.

Neither I, or Guthrie offered a comment.

7


	66. Bossy boots

When we got home, I went into the house, and upstairs to put away the cash that I'd kept out of my cattle sale money. I tucked it into

my top drawer, where I always keep it.

I went back downstairs, and went to the kitchen, where Hannah and Adam were sitting at the table, talking. They were sitting at the end

of the table that Hannah sits at during meal times.

Hannah smiled at me, and Adam said, "Hey. How was town? Get the money into your savings account?"

"Yeah," I said, going to the cabinet and pulling down a glass.

"I'm surprised you all didn't make a stop at the café for some pie," Hannah said, smiling at me.

I turned on the water, and began to fill up my glass.

"I guess we didn't feel like it, really," I said, and as they both looked at me expectantly, I went to sit across

the table from Adam.

"Everybody's talking about it," I said. "The case. And Kenny."

Adam gave a nod, and Hannah said, "That's the way that it usually is. Something big happening, in a small town."

"This bunch of men were just standing around. Saying how Kenny's putting his parents thru all of this," I said.

"Well, that part of it's true enough," Adam said.

"I'd think they would all have better things to do," I said. "Then stand around and gossip, and pick on the Mustangs."

Adam gave me a knowing glance, as I went on. "And then, when somebody draws their attention to what's wrong

with what they're saying, they get all huffy about it."

I took a long drink of my water, as Adam and Hannah exchanged a glance.

"And, this somebody? The one that pointed out what they were saying that was wrong?" Adam said, raising an

eyebrow. "Was that you, Harlie?"

I met his eyes across the table. "Yes," I said. I'd gotten to thinking on the way home about that one man, the one

who was so put out with me. If he'd happened to recognize Ford, or Evan, and could place me as a McFadden member, then

he might see Adam around somewhere, like a Cattleman's Association meeting, or something. And, he might decide to fill Adam's

ear with reports of how I shouldn't talk out like I had. Best I tell Adam about it, first.

"What did you say?" Adam asked me.

"Well, he was saying that the Mustangs are nothing but a big nuisance, and how it doesn't matter a whit if they're all sold

to the dog food factories. That the only shame of this whole thing was Kenny disgracing his family, and all the damage that's

been done to fences and stuff."

"Uh huh?" Adam prompted me to continue, his eyebrow still up.

"So, I told him that the Mustangs aren't hurting anybody. That they're just trying to survive, is all."

"And he didn't appreciate hearing this, I take it?" Adam asked.

"No," I admitted. I was perusing his face, to see if I could gauge his thoughts and reaction to what I'd said.

"What'd he say?"

"He told me-" I hesitated. "That I should stay out of conversations that aren't my business," I finished quickly. "And he said

I was disrespectful."

Hannah sort of looked down, and then took a drink of her tea. It seemed to me that she was looking somewhat amused, and was

trying to hide that fact.

"Were you?" Adam asked me.

I looked at him, not understanding.

"Disrespectful," he specified.

I considered. "I guess I shouldn't have said anything," I admitted. "But, I don't think I was disrespectful." I thought then of

how I'd turned to give the man a dirty look, and muttered, 'oh, my gosh', at him in retaliation for saying I was disrespectful.

"I guess I was a little bit-" I hesitated. "Something."

"Sassy?" Adam offered.

"I guess so," I admitted.

Adam sighed a little. He was giving me a considering look. I couldn't tell exactly how annoyed he was with me. Or if it

was past annoyance.

"You can thank Evan," I said, trying to lighten the moment. "He hustled me out of there like greased lightning."

"I'll remember to thank him," Adam said, dryly.

When Adam didn't say anything else right away, but just sat back in his chair, giving me a stern-ish look, I said,

"It just made me mad, the way he was talking-" I began, and then let my voice sort of trail off.

"I'm sure it did make you mad," Adam acknowledged. "That doesn't mean you had to respond to it, though. Does it?"

"No."

The phone began ringing then, and Hannah got up, saying that she would go and answer it. She went out, headed to the

living room. When we were left alone, I pushed my glass into the center of the table, and looked at Adam a little bit

sheepishly.

"I thought I'd better tell you about it," I admitted. "Remember? You said that you wanted to hear things from me, and not

from somebody else?"

"I remember," he said. "I understand how you feel about all of this, Harlie. In all the talking about the Mustangs and the case

that we're gonna be hearing for a long while, there's going to be opinions that you don't agree with. You're likely not going

to change anybody's mind, that's already been made up."

"I know," I said, realizing that he was right. "But, maybe, there might be a person sometime, whose mind can be changed."

"It's possible," he agreed. Then he reverted back to lecture mode. "Just watch your mouth. You don't need to be arguing like that,

with older people. Alright?"

I nodded in acknowledgement. And then, thankfully, Adam went on talking about something else.

7

That night, Guthrie and I went to town, to hang out at Butch's for awhile with some of the other kids. Guthrie had

called Kristin but hadn't been able to get anyone to answer the telephone at her house. That put Guthrie into a mood again.

Before we left the house, I'd been waiting, sitting on the couch, as he'd tried, for the third time, to call Kristin.

Adam was in the room, too, along with Brian, who was sitting on the opposite couch beside Clare. Everybody knew

that Guthrie had been trying to get ahold of Kristin for most of the afternoon and early evening, with no success.

When Guthrie hung up the phone, and walked back over to where we all were sitting, Adam said quietly, to him, "No luck, huh?"

"No."

Adam looked at Guthrie, standing there with his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, Guth."

And, I could tell that he was sorry, too. I knew he was feeling for Guthrie, and me, and also that he cared a lot for Kristin

himself.

"Yeah," Guthrie said, with a shrug.

"Maybe she went with her mom somewhere," Clare spoke up, encouragingly.

Guthrie looked doubtful.

"So what are you two up to tonight?" Brian asked, in a change of subject.

When Guthrie was slow to answer, I answered for the both of us. "Going to Butch's, to hang out."

Brian nodded, but was watching Guthrie.

As Guthrie and I got around to leave, Adam and Brian both walked out onto the porch with us.

"Got enough money?" Adam asked us. We both said that we did, and I saw Brian and Adam exchanging one of those

'talking without words' glances between them.

"No drinkin' tonight," Adam said. His voice was quiet. Not loud, as though he was 'laying down the law' or anything. But there was

no doubt in my mind that he meant it. I knew there would be no doubt for Guthrie, either.

I nodded, in acknowledgement, and Adam looked to Guthrie. "Hear me?" he prompted.

"Yeah. I hear," Guthrie answered.

"Don't be too late, either," Brian tossed in. "Home by eleven, or so. We've got an early morning of work tomorrow."

So, we went on to Guthrie's truck, with Adam's cautionary, "Be careful," said as we walked away.

We were at the end of the driveway, when Guthrie said, "They worry way too much."

"I don't think they can help it," I said, in defense of Adam and Brian. "You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Guthrie said, and sighed. And then, to my somewhat surprise, he added, "A beer sounds good."

I turned to look at him. "You can't drink at Butch's," I said. I knew that he already knew that, full well. Butch is strict about

things like that. He tosses out any teenagers that he sees drinking, even if they're outside when they're doing it, and then try to

come inside.

"I know," he said. "I just said it sounds good. That's all."

There was something in Guthrie's tone. Something in his demeanor that I couldn't quite put my finger on. He seemed 'off'. And I knew that if

he really wanted to drink, it wouldn't be any problem to find beer.

"You promised Adam," I reminded him.

"When did you get so perfect all of a sudden?" Guthrie accused.

I felt a quick stab of hurt at that. I clamped my lips shut, and turned to look out the window, at the passing fields.

It was only a nanosecond, and Guthrie sighed heavily. "Sorry, Har."

I didn't answer right off, and he said, "I am sorry. I just-well, everything's hittin' me, I guess."

"I know," I said, in sympathy, and turned from the window to look at him again. "Why don't you stop at the trailer park and see if

Kristin's there?"

"Adam and Brian don't want you there. You know that."

"I'll stay out in the truck," I told him.

Guthrie looked thoughtful, and I knew he was remembering the conversation the two of us had had, with all of our brothers. They'd said

with certainty that they didn't want me going to Kristin's trailer, because of what Frank might say or even do, to me. And then, they'd added

that if Guthrie went to pick Kristin up or drop her off, he was always to wait outside the front door. Not go in, so as to prevent an

altercation with Frank. I could tell that Guthrie really, really wanted to do it. Go to the park, and knock on the door. See if Kristin was there.

"It's okay," I told him. "At least try. If she's there, we'll both feel better. At least we'll know she's okay."

Guthrie nodded, and so, when we pulled into the city limits of Murphys, he drove towards the end of town that the trailer park is on.

There was no car in the driveway, but that didn't mean anything. Her mom might be using it. It didn't mean that Kristin wasn't there.

Guthrie got out and went up the few steps on the porch, and I watched as he knocked on the door. I saw him take a step

or two back as the door was opened. From where he'd parked, I couldn't see who had answered the door, but I didn't think it was

Kristin, because she would have come on out, so as to say hello to me.

I saw Guthrie sort of straighten up, and I could tell from the way he was standing, and then the way that he was talking, that

whoever it was wasn't being very friendly, or welcoming. So it wouldn't be Kristin's mom either, then. She likes Guthrie.

That left Frank. I began to get a bad feeling in my stomach. Maybe this had been a bad idea. I opened my door, intent on

getting out. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, exactly. I just knew that I couldn't sit there and watch while Guthrie got

into an altercation with Frank. A drunk Frank, most likely.

And then, the other person came out onto the small porch. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that it was Buddy. Kristin's

brother. I hadn't seen him in such a long time. I know Kristin says that he's not very nice. Not any help to her mom. He sometimes works

and sometimes he doesn't. He even tends to get drunk right alongside of Frank. He's about Evan's age. Or maybe Daniel's age. I can never

remember that part. That's another reason that Kristin says that I'm so lucky. Because she says she'd give anything if Buddy were like

my brothers. She's especially fond of Crane. But, Buddy's not like my brothers. When Seth hit her while they were dating, Buddy didn't even

give a darn.

Buddy had put on some weight since I'd last seen him up close like this. It was probably mostly beer-gut, I thought, trying to

reassure myself. Because he was way, way bigger than Guthrie. I stepped out of the truck all the way, keeping my hand on the

door handle. Now, I would be able to hear them.

But, now that I was where I was able to hear, Buddy turned and went back inside, slamming the door. And Guthrie came

down the steps, and to the truck.

"What happened?" I asked, as he got closer.

"Nothin'. Get in."

"What did he say?" I persisted.

"Let's go."

I got in and so did he. We sat there in momentary silence. Anger was radiating off of Guthrie. I didn't want to press him. But, I

didn't want to wait, either.

"Is Kristin here?" I asked.

"No."

Guthrie started the motor, and began to back the truck up.

"Where is she?"

"Buddy says he doesn't know," Guthrie said.

"Oh."

We drove in silence down the side streets, until we got back to the main street. Guthrie pulled up in front of Butch's, and shut off the truck. There were

still a couple of parking spaces left.

But, instead of getting out, Guthrie just sat there, staring out the windshield.

"Was Frank there, too?" I asked.

"I didn't see him."

"Was Buddy being an ass?" I asked.

"Buddy's always an ass."

I sighed a little, and fell into silence. I didn't know what to say to help Guthrie feel better about everything. I was worried about

Kristin, too. But, add Kenny to the mix, and it just seemed as though I couldn't break thru Guthrie's veneer.

"Do you just wanna go home?" Guthrie asked me.

"Is that what you want to do?" I countered.

"I dunno," he said, and then sighed.

I studied his profile, trying to decide what to do, or what to say. Finally, I decided to just take charge. There was no guarantee that

Guthrie would respond to my bossing him around. But, it was worth a try.

I reached over and gave him a light slap on the shoulder. "Let's go in for awhile. Maybe some of your friends are here. It might

cheer you up."

"I don't know," Guthrie said again, still staring out the windshield.

I would, I saw, have to get more assertive. I got out and slammed the truck door, going around to Guthrie's side.

I pulled his door open. And then I took hold of his arm, tugging at him.

"Get out," I ordered.

"Huh?"

"Get out," I said again, as firmly as I was able to. "This is ridiculous. You need to talk to some people. Have a little fun. It will do

you good."

Guthrie was still not budging from his seat, even though I was pulling on his arm. But, he was also looking a little less grim.

"Bossy boots," he accused.

"That's right. Now, get out!"

Guthrie shook his head a little, but he got out, pocketing his keys, and slamming his door.

7


	67. What to say

Guthrie did end up having fun. A little fun, anyway. Trent and a couple of Guthrie's other friends showed up, and they began a game of

pool. Lori, who had accompanied Trent along to Butch's, sat with me, and we talked, and watched the boys shoot pool.

There was, of course, some buzz here as well, about Kenny. Not so much about the whole case, and what it involved, but more

just about Kenny's involvement. Since it was a bunch of teenagers, most of them seemed surprised by what Kenny had done.

At first I thought it might rile Guthrie all up again. But, since he was hanging out with Trent and the other two boys, and they were also

friends of Kenny's, they seemed to not take much notice of the talk and gossip.

We didn't stay too long, though. Lori always has to get home pretty early, because her dad's strict. So when she and Trent got

around to go, just before ten, then Guthrie and I decided to leave, too.

As we passed the Dari Kurl, though, Guthrie saw somebody that he wanted to talk to, so he made a quick turn there and pulled

in.

"I'm gonna go talk to Fred for a minute," he told me, as he got out. "You wanna come?"

"I'll stay here, unless I see somebody I want to talk to," I told him.

"Okay. Order me a shake if Bets comes around, will ya?"

I was sitting with my feet propped up on the dashboard. It was so hot that I'd taken off my shoes and socks, and was enjoying

having my feet bare. I was perusing the crowd that was left around the Dari Kurl, and didn't see anybody that I wanted to talk to.

At least not bad enough to rouse myself, or put my shoes back on to get out for.

When Bets, the car hop, came over with her pad and pencil, she stuck her head in Guthrie's open window.

"Hey, there, Harlie," she greeted me cheerily.

"Hi, Bets."

"You want something?"

"A large chocolate shake for Guthrie."

"Okay," she said, scribbling it down. "How about you?"

I considered, running over in my mind what I'd indulged in today, that might set my blood sugar rising.

"A strawberry shake for me," I told her. "Small."

"Great." She slipped her pencil back behind her ear. "How's Daniel?" she asked.

I feel sort of sorry for Bets. She's had a thing for Daniel for a long, long time.

"He's good," I said.

"He gonna be staying around here for a while longer?" she asked.

"I don't think too much longer. He has to get back."

"Oh." Her face sort of crumpled. I felt really sorry for her, then. Then she recovered her customary good

nature, and said, "Be right back with the shakes!"

As I sat there, watching Guthrie from a distance as he talked to a group of kids, I wondered if I could persuade Daniel to

take Bets out. Just once, before he went back to Nashville.

7

Once we left the Dari Kurl, and were on the road heading home, Guthrie seemed to be driving slow. The windows were down,

and it made a nice breeze come thru.

The cab of the truck was dark, but I could hear Guthrie taking a big slurp from his shake.

"You were right about Kenny," Guthrie said. His voice was sort of quiet, and he sounded regretful.

I wasn't sure what to say to that. I had been right. But, that didn't mean that I was glad about it.

So I didn't say anything right away.

"I didn't wanna believe it, when you were sayin' all that stuff about him. I still don't wanna believe it." He sighed. "But, anyway,

I'm sorry for being such a jerk to ya."

"It's okay," I said. I could hear all the emotion in Guthrie's voice. He was trying to tamp it down but I could hear it.

He didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, and I wondered if he was going to say more about Kenny.

When he didn't, I spoke up softly, "I wish I hadn't been right."

"Yeah," he said.

7

The next morning we'd only just finished eating breakfast, when there was a commotion outside. The dogs were barking,

and Brian said, "Sounds like somebody's here."

"I'll go," Ford said, scooting his chair back, and going to the living room. Everybody else started getting up, as well, talking

about what needed to be done.

We could hear Ford's voice, and another voice. A man's. And then a woman's, as well. Adam headed toward

the living room, and Brian did, too, stepping back to the kitchen doorway to say, "It's Kenny's folks."

I immediately shot Guthrie a glance, where he was putting his sink on the stack by the sink. His face looked all panicky, all of a

sudden.

"Oh," Hannah said, laying the dishtowel in her hand down on the table, and heading towards the living room.

Crane said something about making another pot of coffee, and Brian added, "Kenny's with them."

Panicky wasn't the word for Guthrie's expression then. Crane passed by Guthrie, giving him a pat on the shoulder as

he went towards the living room, as well.

Very quietly, Guthrie sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, after picking up his boots, and began to pull them on.

"You ought to go talk to him," Daniel said.

Guthrie was silent, not answering.

"You'll feel better about it all if you do," Daniel went on.

I was watching the scene play out between them, from where I stood by the sink, next to Clare. Evan, who was still sitting

in his spot at the table, was watching, too.

"Daniel's right about that," Evan tossed in.

Still, Guthrie was silent.

"Go on, Guth," Daniel said.

I knew that Daniel, and Evan, too, were trying to be encouraging. I knew that they were only concerned for Guthrie, and how

much he was hurting. But, it was like I could now see where I'd fallen short before. I'd tried pushing Guthrie to believe it all, and

that hadn't worked. Now, when he knew for certain that it was, indeed true, Daniel was pushing him to talk to Kenny. See him and

talk before he was ready to.

"I don't want to right now," Guthrie said, really low.

"Ignoring it isn't gonna make it go away," Daniel persisted.

Guthrie gave his boot a yank and looked up. "I know that, Daniel. That's not what I'm doin'."

"You'd rather just go around bein' a jerk about it all," Daniel accused, and then gestured at me. "And then taking off her

head when she's tryin' to talk to you."

I felt my stomach plummet. Daniel had no way of knowing that Guthrie and I had worked thru the whole 'Kenny' thing, or knowing

that Guthrie had apologized to me for being a jerk.

"Daniel, stop," I broke in.

Guthrie stood up, and walked out of the kitchen without another word, letting the door flap shut. It hurt me, just watching him

go like that.

"You shouldn't have talked to him like that," I said.

"I'm tired of him actin' like a bear with a sore paw," Daniel said, sounding mad.

Brian was by now, back in the kitchen doorway. "Where's Guthrie?" he asked, looking around.

Evan gave a nod toward the back door. "Outside."

"Kenny wants to talk to him," Brian said, and then seemed to take in the tension in the room. "What's goin' on?"

When none of us answered, Clare did. "Guthrie doesn't want to talk to Kenny right now."

Brian looked as though he were going to say something more, but then he didn't. He just went back to the living room,

where the voices continued talking.

Evan got to his feet and went out, saying, "I'll try talking to Guthrie."

I was suddenly irritated with Daniel. "Guthrie apologized to me last night," I said, keeping my voice low enough so that it

wouldn't be overheard from the living room.

Daniel nodded, but didn't say anything.

Hannah came back into the kitchen, intent on getting down coffee cups and a tray. "Need some help?" Clare asked her.

"I think we'll just have coffee," Hannah said. "Or do you think we should have some cookies or something?"

"They probably ate breakfast just awhile ago," Clare said.

I could tell Hannah was a little flustered. "Mrs. Harris is so upset," she said, really low.

"Why are they here?" Clare asked.

"They came along with Kenny, since he was hoping to talk to Guthrie. Kenny has court tomorrow."

Daniel turned and started out the back door. I tagged after him just past the doorway. From where I stood, I could see Guthrie standing

near the corral, Evan standing beside him, talking.

"Daniel-" I began.

"I'm not gonna say anything more to him, squirt."

"Okay," I said.

When I'd stepped back into the kitchen, Hannah was pouring coffee into the cups on the tray. Isaac, just now waking up,

began to cry from upstairs.

"I'll go," Clare said.

"Thanks," Hannah said, and then to me, she said, "Will you help me, Harlie?"

I nodded, even though I would have rather not gone into the living room. She said, "Carry the coffee pot, will you, please?"

So she carried the tray and I took the coffee pot and a pot holder, and followed her to the living room.

Mr. and Mrs. Harris were sitting on one of the couches, with Adam and Crane sitting across from them. Brian was sitting in the recliner.

Ford was sitting on the arm of the couch, and Kenny was standing.

Hannah set the tray down on the coffee table, and began handing out the cups of coffee, while I set the coffee pot down on the

hot pad. I swung a glance at Kenny. He was holding his ball cap in his hands, twisting it back and forth. He looked shaken up.

He looked so distressed that I spoke first. "Hi, Kenny."

He nodded at me, without meeting my eyes. "Hey, Harlie."

Hannah sat down beside Adam, handing him a full cup.

Kenny's mother was sniffling, holding a handkerchief to her eyes.

Brian said something to Kenny's dad about cattle prices. Mr. Harris looked relieved, I thought, and immediately began making

conversation with Brian about that.

When I looked Ford's way, he mouthed, "Guth?" to me.

I gave a discreet, quick point to the outside. Ford nodded in understanding, and then stood up, and quietly left the room, heading

towards the kitchen. I figured he was on his way to hunt for Guthrie, and try talking to him.

Mrs. Harris said to Hannah, "This whole thing is just-well, it's not something that I thought we'd ever have to come face

to face with-" She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes again, and began to cry. For some reason, I thought of the word 'weep' just

then. Kenny's mother is such a delicate appearing sort of person. She's a real Southern belle, as I've said before. So 'weep' seems

to fit better with what she was doing right then.

Mr. Harris stopped talking to Brian, and began to pat her back. "Now, Millie," he said.

I looked at Kenny, who was by the moment looking more distressed and uncomfortable. I couldn't imagine what he must

be thinking or feeling right then. Having his mom fall apart like that, in front of other people, because of something that he'd done.

Hannah moved from her spot beside Adam, over to the other couch, sitting down beside Mrs. Harris. She wrapped her arm around

Kenny's mom's shoulders, and began to talk really softly to her.

I shot Crane a look of wide-eyed wonder. Any moment, now, I thought, and Kenny might be sobbing, too, like he'd done that

night with Crane and I.

"Hey, Harlie," Crane said quietly, "Why don't you and Kenny go out on the front porch for a few minutes?"

There was no time to decide if that was something that I wanted to do or not. Crane gave me a nod, and I knew he wasn't giving

me a choice, really.

So I said, "Okay", and headed out the front door. Kenny was following me, and I let him go past me, and closed the door

behind us.

I wondered what he would think of being more or less ordered to go out onto the porch by Crane like that.

I sat down in the porch swing, as he stood there, stiffly, across from me.

"My mom's real upset," he said.

My thoughts were sarcastic. As in, 'Um, really?!' or 'I never would have guessed it'. But, of course, I didn't say those things.

"Yeah."

"She just keeps cryin', all the time. She never really stops," he said.

How was I supposed to respond to that?

"Maybe talking to Hannah will help her," I finally said.

After that, I sat, and he stood, and there was silence for a long few minutes.

When Kenny finally spoke again, his tone was resigned. "Guess Guthrie made a quick escape, huh?"

I looked at Kenny, but again, had no words.

"I figured," Kenny said, with a sigh. "He don't wanna see me, does he?"

"I guess not." Then, I added, "Maybe he will, later."

"I don't know if I'll be around for awhile after this," Kenny said. "I've got court tomorrow, and my lawyer says that I'll

probably have to go to a detention center for awhile."

I could hardly swallow past the lump in my throat. It wasn't that I thought Kenny should get no punishment. But, I'd

never known of any kid in our area to have to go to a detention center, or even get into serious trouble enough to cause

it to be a possibility.

"Oh," I said, sort of thunderstruck.

"That's why I wanted to come over today. I was hopin' that it would be early enough that he might be around."

"Ford's talking to him. Ford's good at that kind of thing-" I let my voice trail off.

"Yeah," Kenny said, in agreement. "Ford's a good guy, alright."

A hesitance on his part, and then he said, "You probably aren't thrilled to be sent out here with me, are ya?"

I swept my gaze to him, and for the first time, his eyes met mine.

He seemed to be wanting an answer, and so I said, in honesty, "I don't know how I feel, Kenny."

Kenny nodded, as if he weren't surprised by my answer. Then he sort of straightened up a little, and said,

"Well, I've got something to tell you, and then, after that, you can go back inside if you want to. I'll stay out here so

I don't make everybody uncomfortable in there."

At first when he said that, about making everybody uncomfortable, I thought he might be trying to get pity, or something. But, when

I looked at him, he didn't seem as though he was. He simply looked sad. Somber. Intent.

"What do you want to tell me?" I asked, not sure at all that I wanted to know.

"That night-" he began, "The night when you heard the four-wheelers on the edge of your place?"

When I nodded in response, he went on, "I was there, just like you thought I was. And-it was a dog bite on my arm. Warrior got

real nervous, I guess, from all the noise and stuff we were makin'. He was barking and jumpin', and it was makin' the other guys

mad."

I stared at him. I'd known all that already, well, except for the part about the other men there being angry. But, to hear him say

it outright, to admit it like that, well, it stunned me.

Kenny went on, not paying any mind to my stunned expression.

"What I really wanna tell you is this. I kicked him, when he kept jumping on me and barking. The other guys were gettin' mad

at me over it, 'cause he wouldn't leave me be. And they were starting to threaten Warrior, so I thought maybe if I kicked him that he'd

run for the house." He was gazing at me, full-on, though he was still twisting his hat nervously into folds between

his fingers. "I kicked him, but I'm not the one that shot him." I thought for a moment he was going to break down again, but

he seemed to steady himself with resolve, and said earnestly, "I've got no reason to lie to you now. This is the God's honest truth, Harlie. I

didn't shoot your dog. And I feel real bad about it happenin' to him."

7


	68. Brotherhood

When Kenny said all of that, I hesitated, trying to find the right words to reply to him.

It didn't seem right to be cruel to him, when he was so obviously baring his soul to me. I still had questions I would have liked

answered, but something within me, (most likely my conscience), urged me to acknowledge what he'd said.

"Okay," I said.

When he gave me somewhat of a questioning look, I knew I hadn't made myself clear.

"I believe you. That you weren't the one that shot my dog."

To say that Kenny looked relieved would have been an understatement.

"Gosh, Harlie, that's great," he said. He wasn't smiling, or anything like that, but he looked relieved for sure.

"Warrior probably recognized you," I said. "That's why he kept barking at you. And picking you to jump on."

"Probably," Kenny acknowledged.

We were quiet again for a few minutes. Kenny stopped standing so stiffly, and sat on the porch railing, still twisting his hat.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked.

He looked instantly nervous, on the alert, but nodded. "Yeah."

"Why did you get involved in all this? Doing things to hurt neighbors, people you've known for years?"

He was quiet for so long, looking off towards the pastures, that I thought maybe he wasn't going to answer at all.

"Just bein' stupid. Drinking too much, and then letting myself be talked into stuff. And, I told myself that I'd give some

of the money to my folks, to help with the hospital bills."

"But, how could you?" I asked. "Help run the Mustangs, when you knew they'd be killed?"

"I didn't give that part of it any thought," he said flatly.

I felt as though I didn't want to talk any more. What else, was there, to say?

I stood up. "I'll go try to find Guthrie," I said. I knew that it was highly unlikely that even if I did find Guthrie, I would be able

to convince him to come and talk to Kenny.

I started down the front steps, when I heard Kenny say, "I'm sorry."

I stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked back up at him. I didn't know what to say then. He did seem sorry, though.

Sorry and sad.

I nodded. "I know."

7

I made my escape around the side of the house, going to where I'd seen Guthrie at earlier, with Evan. But, they were gone

from there now. I looked in all the places in the back yard, and in the orchard, with no success. I looked all thru the barn, and

then, just when I was getting ready to call out for him, I heard a shout of laughter, and male voices.

I went around the back side of the barn, where there were hay bales and concrete blocks to sit on, and there I found Guthrie. And, also,

Evan, Ford and Daniel. They were sitting around in sort of a semi-circle. Another joke or whatever

must have been being told just as I came 'round the corner, because there was another bout of laughter. I came closer, taking

note of the beer cans that had been emptied, and dropped to the ground.

"Hey, Har," Ford said, looking up at me, with a grin.

"Hey," I answered, and stood there, resting my hands on my hips. I kicked at the pile of cans, just lightly. "You guys have

been busy."

"Those are from the other night, goof," Evan corrected me.

"Kenny and his folks still here?" Daniel asked me.

"Yeah." It was seeming to me that they had all stopped talking when I came up. Or telling their dirty jokes, or whatever.

None of them said anything, or moved to stand up, so I went to sit beside Ford on his hay bale.

"He really wants to talk to you, Guth," I said.

At first Guthrie was silent, scratching at the dirt with a stick. "Nope," he said, finally.

"He says he might have to go to a detention center," I added.

No response from Guthrie at all then. Ford and Daniel both looked regretful.

After another silent few moments, I said, "So what are you guys going to do? Just sit back here all day?"

"Good work if you can get it, huh?" Evan asked, nudging Guthrie in the ribs.

I wasn't sure just what was going on, but it seemed to me as though 'the brotherhood' had gathered around Guthrie,

to support him. I felt sort of left out for some reason. Which was really dumb, is what I told myself. After all, I didn't want

Guthrie feeling badly.

"Well, I had to talk to Kenny," I said, emphasizing the word 'I'. "I had to listen to what he had to say. Why don't you just

do it and get it over with?" I asked that, and directed my words and look at Guthrie.

"It's not the same thing," Guthrie said, not looking at me, but still tracing lines in the dirt with the stick.

"I don't see what's so different about it," I said. Afterwards, I couldn't really say what had come over me. Just a bit earlier,

I'd been upset at Daniel because he'd been prodding at Guthrie, telling him off. I'd been in Guthrie's corner, feeling as though he

shouldn't have to talk to Kenny until he was ready. Now, though, I looked around the circle, and felt pure orneriness rise over me.

"Har," Evan said. "Just leave it."

"I'm only pointing something out," I persisted.

"Well, don't," Guthrie muttered.

"I can say what I think," I insisted. "This is America."

From around the front, we could hear the sound of the Harris's truck starting up. And then, the crunching of the tires

as they began down the driveway.

"Well, they're gone now," I said, standing up, and dusting the hay off the back of my shorts. "It's safe for you to come

out of hiding now, Guthrie."

As soon as I'd said it, I was sorry. It was a really mean thing to say, with Guthrie having such a hard time as he was.

Guthrie's expression registered shock. And then, anger.

"Harlie-" I heard Evan begin.

Guthrie stood up so quick that Evan stopped talking, as Guthrie brushed past me. I thought for a moment that he might

actually ram right into me, but he didn't. He disappeared from sight. I stood there, and my heart was sort of pounding.

And then, I looked to the three that were still seated there, in their little semi-circle. And, wowzer! What a bunch of

looks I was being given now! Disapproval all the way around.

"What?" I demanded, and my tone came off pretty darn flippant.

"Why'd you say somethin' like that?" Evan demanded of me.

"Yeah. You didn't need to," Ford added.

I was trying to formulate a response, when Evan went on. "We just got him to feelin' a little bit better, and you

come around back here, and say somethin' like that."

I looked to Daniel, hoping for support, but his expression was serious, and like I said, disapproving. No support, there.

And then, I did what I do best at times. Shot off my mouth.

"Oh, right," I said, raising my voice. "I had no business coming 'round, and interrupting the whole 'brotherhood' thing

you guys had going on! Excuse me!" And, with that, I turned to stomp away, heading towards the house. A plastic feed bucket,

blown from the barn by wind, was right in my path. I gave it a vicious kick. Which sent the bucket flying alright, but also

succeeded in hurting my foot, since I was wearing sneakers and not my boots.

"Two words, Har!" Evan yelled after me. "Reagan Clark!"

That would have stopped me in my tracks, but I didn't want Evan, or any of them, to see how much that bothered me. Comparing

me to Reagan! And I was feeling especially wounded. I can usually count on Ford and Daniel, or at least one of them,

to support me most times.

I went toward the feed shed, shoving aside feed bags which hadn't been properly stacked, by whoever it was that put them in the shed.

"Probably Guthrie," I muttered to myself uncharitably.

I needed to get to the goat feed, so I could do my chores. It was, unfortunately, behind all the wrongly stacked ones. I scrambled up

onto the pile, and worked my way over until I was in between that stack and the goat feed. I scooped out what I needed, and then

began to scramble back up on top, to once again get out. In fury, I shoved as hard as I could at the top sack of feed. I was successful in

the dislodging, so successful that it fell off the other side, bumping into a roll of water and bursting open.

I knew even before I crawled over, that the sack had burst, and that there was feed all over the floor of the shed.

I stood there, surveying the mess, whilst holding my small bucket of goat feed.

"Bat shit!" I yelled, not caring if anyone heard me. I went on out of the shed, slamming the wooden door, but not stopping to

latch it.

I went to feed the goats, spending a few minutes petting Elwood P. Dowd, and his two wives. When I made my way back to the

feed shed, to return my bucket, I found the door open again, propped with a cement block. I crawled back across the stacks yet

again, and felt, before I heard, someone at the door of the shed.

When I turned round from hanging the bucket up, Brian was standing there.

He didn't say anything, and I, out of contrariness, didn't either.

"Are you the one that made this mess?" he asked me, gesturing to the feed all over the floor.

"It was an accident," I said.

"I didn't say it was done on purpose. I asked if you were the one who did it."

"Somebody left the feed sacks right in the way," I balked. "Instead of stacking them where they belong."

His expression went from serious to stern at my last comment. And, I knew I'd only made it worse. Brian isn't real

big on excuses.

"Yes, I did it," I said, with a suddenness, and in a less respectful tone that I should have. "I'll clean it up."

"What's with the attitude?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Nothing," I said, and scrambled up, and scooted my way across the stack again. There was hardly room for Brian to stand

there, let alone me, too. So I sat where I was, on the stack of feed, dangling my feet.

Instead of saying anything then, Brian stood there for a long few moments, regarding me in sort of a quizzical way, and then

he said, "What is it?" very quietly.

"The boys-" I said. "They're all just a bunch of-" I let my words trail off into nothingness.

Brian's eyebrow went higher. "A bunch of what?"

"Pains in the butt," I said, and I thought that he looked a little amused.

He stepped over, and leaned against the stack, standing right beside where I was sitting.

"What have the boys done now?" he asked.

"They had Guthrie out behind the barn, and they were all talking. And then, I went back there, and they-" I hesitated. If I told

Brian that I'd felt left out, he'd tell me I was being silly. And if I told him that I'd said something cutting to Guthrie, he'd likely tell

me I'd been wrong. And, I knew that already.

I settled for saying, "I said something sort of mean to Guthrie. And Evan told me I was acting like Reagan."

Brian looked at me questioningly. "Who's Reagan?" he asked.

"Reagan Clark?" I prompted.

"That Clinton's daughter?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And I take it that that's some sort of an insult?" Brian asked. "Telling you that you're acting like her?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe Evan didn't intend it that way-" Brian began.

"He meant it," I said, talking over Brian. "He knows how Reagan acts, and he knows that I know just what he thinks of her, too."

"Just how does she act?" Brian asked.

"She's snarly and hateful," I said. "And rude. A prima donna."

"Oh," he said, and I thought that he sounded amused again. I gave him a quick side glance to see if he was.

In answer, he gave me a small smile.

"It's not funny, Bri."

"No, I'm sure it's not," he said, but still looked as though he was going to grin.

"I maybe say things sometimes that I shouldn't," I admitted. "But, I'm not a prima donna," I finished with finality.

A quick second later, I looked at Brian's profile. "You don't think I am, do you, Bri?"

"Of course not."

"This has been a stupid summer," I said, with sudden fierceness.

"It's been eventful, that's for sure."

"Stupid," I maintained.

"Why do you say that?" Brian asked.

"Kristin. Having to be in that hellish house with Frank. And then the Mustangs-being hunted down and butchered. And-Guthrie. It

seems as though things with Guthrie and me this summer are either really good, or really bad." I sighed in frustration.

"It's too bad about Kristin, alright. As far as you and Guthrie go, you two are solid. You'll come thru it okay together." Brian said.

I waited, but he didn't say anything about the Mustangs.

"What about the horses?" I prompted him. "Probably hundreds of them-"

"The people responsible are gonna be held accountable, peach."

I felt weird, and sort of weepy. I laid my cheek against his arm. "It just makes me so sad, Bri."

"I know."

After a couple of moments, he shifted, and put his arm around my shoulders, and for a few minutes I just relaxed, feeling

better after he hugged me.

"Mrs. Harris is really upset, huh?" I asked, still leaning into him.

"Yeah."

"Kenny told me that he might have to go to a detention center," I said, without raising my head.

"Yeah. He might."

There followed a few more minutes of silence, and then Brian gave me a squeeze. "I need to get to work," he said.

"Okay," I said, sitting up straighter.

"And you have a mess to clean up," he added.

I sighed. "I'll get a broom."

7

I went in search of the barn broom, and had looked several minutes, still without finding it. I finally located it, laying behind

an old rowboat that Ford had towed home from a friend's house. I was walking fast with it out of the barn, muttering about how nobody could

seem to put things where they should be. And I plowed right into Daniel.

"Hey," he said, keeping hold of my arms for a moment, and taking a step or two back. "Where are you goin' in such a hurry?"

"To sweep up a mess," I said.

"So therefore the broom," he said, and grinned at me.

I didn't smile back. I was starting to feel mad again. My calming time with Brian had already worn off.

"Sherlock Holmes," I said, a touch sarcastically.

Daniel did sort of a puzzled double-take at me. "You're sure touchy."

"It's my time of the month," I said, hoping to embarrass him. That was how hateful I was feeling. Daniel didn't look embarrassed, though.

He didn't look amused, either. He just looked contemplative, his forehead furrowed with lines, as though he was puzzling me out.

I walked on past him, and went to the feed shed, where I began sweeping up the spilled grain with a vengeance.

The dust was thick from my sweeping, and I had it all in a pile before I remembered that I didn't have anything to sweep it into. Such as a

dustpan. I debated whether to go look for one, and decided my patience wasn't long enough for that.

So I just swept it right out the door of the shed, where a few of the pellets caught on the threshold of the doorway, and the rest

went out. By the time I was done, there was a pile of the feed, right there in front of the door. I sort of stomped it down a

bit flatter, and then went to put the broom away.

The burro had made himself scarce for the last day or so. I'd only seen him at further distances. But I reassured myself

that he was still hanging around. I went then, out into the pasture with the horses, looking to see if I could see him anywhere.

The bull seemed content enough, standing under a tree, and switching his tail back and forth, and sort of looking around, as if

a king surveying his kingdom. I kept a wary eye on the bull, as I trekked across the pasture. Old Charlie, faithful as always, ambled along

behind me, as if to keep me company. But, even after walking quite a ways from the herd, I couldn't see any sign of the burro.

That fact helped cement my bad mood. I was walking back, when I heard a whistle, and then my name being

called. "Lunch!" Daniel said, waving to me from where he stood by the corral.

I walked back, feeling as if my legs were suddenly too heavy.

Daniel was quiet as I slipped thru the slats of the gate.

We stood there for a couple of seconds, just looking at one another.

He still looked as though he was trying to study me.

"I'm sorry I called you Sherlock Holmes," I said.

"It's okay."

We began walking towards the house together.

"Want to go to the mall tomorrow?" he asked, as we walked.

I gave him a knowing glance. Whenever Daniel's been home, and has to leave again, he always leads into it this way. "You have to go, huh?"

"On Tuesday. I thought we could go do somethin'. The mall, or a movie, if you want."

"Yeah. I'd like that. A movie sounds fun."

"Okay. We can look in the paper. See what's showin'," he said.

I nodded in agreement, and we went into the back door, where the kitchen was already full of McFaddens, ready for

their lunch.

Guthrie, of course, made no attempt to talk to me at lunch. I was still feeling persnickety, so that was alright by me. The talk turned

to the evening, when Adam and Hannah, Brian and Clare, and Crane and Cindy, were going to go out, all together, to supper and a movie.

Hannah ran her gaze over the rest of us at the table. "Can you all keep an eye on Isaac? I'll have him fed, and bathed. You'll just have

to play with him for a while, and then give him a bottle before bed."

"I'll do it," Ford spoke up.

"Okay, thanks," Hannah said, smiling at him. She turned towards Evan, and said, in conversation, "Are you and Nancy going out tonight?"

"She might come over later. Her aunt's visiting, to talk about wedding stuff."

"Wedding 'stuff'?" Hannah asked him, accentuating the word 'stuff'. "We need to be kept in the loop about all that, too, so we

know what we need to do to help."

"Yeah, okay," Evan said, with the careless shrug of a guy who has no idea how much work a wedding really is.

"What about you two?" Hannah asked, turning to Guthrie and I. "Any plans for tonight?"

I shook my head, and Guthrie said, "Naw."

"Maybe you should try calling Kristin again later on today," Hannah suggested, quietly.

"Yeah. I will."

"What about you, Daniel?" Hannah asked, moving on to the next McFadden.

"I'm gonna meet up with some guys in town. Have a game of pool," Daniel said.

Hannah nodded, apparently content that she'd settled the whereabouts of all her 'babies'.

As soon as I'd eaten, I checked the dishwashing chart, relieved that I wasn't on it. I didn't feel well. I had a nagging headache,

and the whole 'shobbly' feeling that I get sometimes, with diabetes. And that I hate. I was trying hard to appear to feel fine. I didn't want

anybody fussing around.

I'd done my chores, so I knew I had at least a few hours to myself. I thought about taking a book and going to the creek, but decided

that I didn't feel like doing that, even. I filled a glass with ice water, and went upstairs to my room, where I closed the door, and took off my

shoes. I switched on the small fan that sets on my desk, and laid down on my bed, on top of the comforter.

I didn't feel well. Not well at all.

7


	69. Hawks

I fell asleep, and woke up once, but had that heavy, draggy feeling that you get sometimes when you fall asleep in the middle of the day, when

all you want to do is go right back to sleep. Yet you know you shouldn't, because then you wont be able to sleep later.

I ignored that, and let myself fall back into the abyss of sleep.

I was woken up for the second time when Hannah touched my arm, and I looked up to see her standing over me. She was dressed in a denim skirt, and

yellow blouse. She was wearing makeup, and had earrings dangling from her ears.

"Hey," she said, really softly. "I wouldn't have woken you up, but you've been sleeping a long time. I wanted to see if you were

alright."

I roused myself to sit up. "I'm fine," I said. I still felt groggy from sleep, and I still had the blasted headache. But, I didn't want Hannah

to know anything about it. She hardly ever goes out, and I'd been able to tell at lunch that she was looking forward to tonight.

"You slept so long," she repeated.

"Just catching up, I guess," I said, trying to sound light and off-hand.

"Okay. Well, we're getting ready to head out, here in a bit. So, I wanted to check on you first."

"Have fun," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"We will." She studied me. "Sure you feel alright?"

"Yes. I was just tired."

"Okay. Well, see you later then." She paused at the door, looking back at me. "You make sure you eat supper. And a snack later, too."

"I will."

She nodded. "Want the door open, or closed?" she asked.

"Closed."

"Alright. Bye, sweetie."

"Bye. Have fun," I said, again.

After she'd gone, I sighed heavily, feeling like somebody who's evaded the law.

I reached for my book, and laid on my stomach, reading. That probably wasn't the best idea, because it seemed to make my

headache more intense. So, I gave it up, letting the book fall to the floor, and I got up to go to the bathroom to take some Tylenol.

No shock that the bottle only had one tablet left in it. I knew I needed more than just the one. I didn't want to go downstairs, it just seemed

like too much effort right then. So I went down the hallway, to Adam and Hannah's bedroom, to look in their medicine cabinet. I took another

Tylenol from the bottle there, using one of the Dixie cups to swallow them with.

Then as I began to shuffle back down the hallway to my own room, I rethought it, and went back to Hannah and Adam's room.

I turned on the little television that sets on their dresser. It doesn't get very good reception, but there was a game show on. I left it

on, mostly for the background noise, and laid down on their bed, using one of Hannah's afghans to cover up with.

I wasn't asleep. I was just lying there, on my side, with my eyes closed, trying to will the headache away. I heard stomping up and down

the hallway, and voices of my brothers. I heard Gus give a yip, and knew that Ford had let him come inside.

Then doors being closed, and my name being called, and supper being announced.

I could tell whoever it was, was calling from the bottom of the stairs. I laid right there, not getting up.

Then, a bit later, "Harlie!" from closer. Near to the door.

"Where are you?"

I roused myself to call out, "In here!"

Ford appeared in the half-open doorway. "What are you doin' in here?" he asked.

"Just laying here," I said softly.

He stepped in further, going over to turn the sound on the small tv down, to nearly silence. "What?" he asked.

"Just laying here," I repeated.

"It's time to eat. I made scrambled eggs and ham."

"I'll be down later."

Ford came over to stand just beside the bed. "Are you feeling bad?" he asked.

I turned over on my back to look up at him. "A headache."

"Oh. Did you take somethin' for it?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah. It just hasn't helped yet."

"You need to eat," he said, sounding all efficient. "Then we'll see how you feel."

"I just wanna lay here for awhile longer. Okay?"

Ford wrinkled his forehead. "I think you oughta eat."

"I will."

"I mean now."

"What's goin' on?" And there was Evan, standing in the doorway now. He'd already had a shower, because his hair was wet, and he was

wearing sweatpants and a tattered t-shirt that had a picture of the Dukes of Hazzard car on the front.

Good grief, I thought. This was Grand Central Station.

"I'm tellin' her she needs to come down and eat," Ford reported, turning to Evan.

Evan came over closer, giving me a once-over. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"She's got a headache," Ford said.

"Take some Tylenol," Evan said.

"She did," Ford said.

"How come you're not talkin'?" Evan asked me, with a frown.

"Ford's my mouthpiece," I said. "He does all my talking for me."

"Hey," Ford protested.

"Have you checked your level?" Evan asked. "Maybe it's low, or somethin'."

"It's not anything to do with that," I said crossly. "It's just a stupid headache."

"You don't know that for sure. Better check it, to be safe. And then, while you're down there, you

might as well eat somethin'. Come on," he told me.

"I'm not hungry," I snapped. Even at that moment, I knew I was acting like a little kid. Just being contrary. I knew that

I needed to eat. And to check my level, just like he'd suggested.

"Bring me up a sandwich and some milk later on," I said.

Ford would have agreed, I know. But, Evan narrowed his eyes at me, and said, "No. We aren't your servants. You can

come down to the table like everybody else."

"I'm sure Reagan could have a meal brought to her, if she wanted," I said. I was purposely trying to needle Evan at that

point.

"Well, you're not Reagan, are ya?" Evan asked, not rising to the bait.

"You think I act like her," I said, continuing on. "So, let's have a little of the same treatment she would get."

"You're bein' ridiculous," Evan said, still calm enough. He turned to walk towards the door. "Come down and eat."

He was already out the door, and gone from sight, when I hollered, "I'll think about coming down!"

And, just as quick, Evan hollered right back. "And I'll think about kicking your butt if you don't!"

I let out a big breath, and focused on Ford, who was standing there, his hands on his hips, looking at me as though

I was loco.

"I agree with Evan. You're bein' ridiculous," Ford said.

I sat up, letting my feet dangle over the side of the bed. "Well, good," I said, with sarcasm. "I've achieved my life's goal. I've always

wanted to be ridiculous."

7

I did, a few minutes later, follow Ford downstairs to the kitchen. I went, mostly because I didn't want to find out if

Evan would carry out his threat and kick my butt if I didn't. And, even though my headache was lessening somewhat, I

knew I needed to eat.

I slid into my seat at the table, next to Guthrie, with Evan and Ford directly across from us. They were handing

bowls of scrambled eggs, and a plate of ham back and forth across the table. I took it, and scraped some eggs onto

my plate.

I got up long enough to retrieve the peanut butter from the cabinet, coming back to the table, and spreading

it on a piece of toast. It was mostly Ford and Evan who did the talking while we all ate. Guthrie and I were like

a couple of silent slugs. Eating, and contributing nothing.

When the phone began ringing, Guthrie got up quickly. "I'll get it," he said, and I knew he hoped it was Kristin calling.

"That watermelon ought to be good and cold by now," Ford was saying.

"I'm ready for it," Evan said.

"I got a watermelon in town," Ford told me, in explanation. "Put it on ice when I got home."

I nodded briefly.

"You gonna eat some with us?" Ford asked me.

"I'd better not. I'd probably eat a 'ridiculous' amount of it," I said, tongue in cheek. My jab being meant for the both of them.

Ford gave me a 'you're kidding' sort of a look.

Evan paid no attention to my snide comment, at least that I could tell, but just took more eggs off the platter, and offered it to Ford.

Ford took most of the rest that were left, and then held it out to me.

"I don't want any more," I said.

Ford stood up so he could reach, and scraped the remainder of the eggs onto Guthrie's plate.

I finished my food, and my milk, and got up to make some lemonade. Some sweet, cold lemonade sounded really good.

"Check your level," Evan reminded me, reaching for another slice of ham.

"When's Nancy coming over?" I asked him, not responding to his comment.

"Probably not for awhile yet."

I began stirring the lemonade mix with a big wooden spoon. Guthrie came back into the kitchen, his step obviously lighter.

"That was Kristin," he said, sounding glad.

"Everything okay?" Ford asked him.

"Yeah. She's goin' with her mom somewhere tonight. But, she's okay."

"That's good," Ford said.

"Yeah," Guthrie said, sliding back into his seat, and beginning to eat again.

Ford got up to go open the freezer, and peer inside. "I was hopin' there was a pie or something up here," he said, sounding

disappointed.

I knew for a certain fact that there were at least two pies in the downstairs freezer. But, I was still feeling less than charitable towards

all three McFadden males in the room, and so I didn't say anything about it.

"We ought to make some homemade ice cream," Ford said, turning to look at us, and leaning on the open freezer door.

"We've got the watermelon," Evan said. "I don't feel like turnin' the crank for ice cream. Do you?"

Ford looked thoughtful and then said, "Naw. I don't either. We'll survive with the watermelon, I guess."

I was pouring myself a glass of lemonade, when Evan said, "Har, pour me a glass, too, will you?"

I guess 'the mood monster' still had a hold on me, because I muttered under my breath, though still loud enough to be heard,

"I guess I'm your servant." Another jab on my part, referring to what he'd said upstairs to me.

The kitchen got suddenly quiet. I had my back turned, but I knew, even without being able to see, that they

were all staring at me.

I turned to face them, and knew I'd crossed some sort of 'invisible' line. At least with Evan, who looked as though he

was angry. Even Ford looked provoked, his forehead wrinkled in a frown.

But, instead of snapping at me for my 'servant' comment, Evan just said, "Never mind, then."

I was suddenly sorry for being so difficult. Even if Evan had thrown Reagan Clark at me earlier in the day.

"I'll pour you a glass," I said quickly. And, I did, setting it in front of him.

Evan told me thanks, but I still felt his censure. To avoid his gaze, I picked up my plate, going to set it beside the sink.

I took a big drink of my lemonade, so big that I began to cough.

"Okay?" Ford asked me, pausing as he brought his own plate over.

"Yeah," I managed, between coughs. "It just went down the wrong way or something."

"Just stack the dishes," Ford said as he went out the back door. "I'll do 'em in a minute. I'm gonna see if the watermelon's getting cold."

"He's really lookin' forward to that watermelon," Guthrie said, with a half-grin.

"Yeah," Evan said, in agreement.

They were both stacking dishes as Ford came back inside, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

"Nice and cold," he said, with satisfaction.

I went to the kitchen drawer, taking out a clean dish towel, and running it under the cold water at the sink. I squeezed it out, and

patted my face.

"You're sweating an awful lot," Ford said, stepping closer to me at the sink.

"It's really warm in here," I said, in explanation.

"It's warm, but it's not that bad," Ford argued. "Did you check your level?"

Too late, I remembered that sweating, combined with a headache, could mean low blood sugar.

"I'll do it now," I said, and turned to wash my hands with soap and warm water, to make it easier to prick my finger.

"What is it?" Ford asked, leaning closer, after I'd checked it.

"It's low," I said, vaguely.

"Harlie, what is it?" Ford repeated, his tone insistent.

I sighed, and told him.

By now, Evan was standing nearby, as well.

"What do you need to do?" Evan asked me. "Eat somethin' else?"

Before I could answer him, he reached behind me for the bananas lying there. He snapped one off, and handed

it to me. "Bananas raise blood sugar, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. They do," Ford said, answering for me. "Fairly quickly, too."

Evan nodded at me. "Get eating," he ordered.

I peeled the banana and ate half of it, with them both watching me like hawks.

When I paused, just for a couple of seconds, Ford frowned. "Finish it," he said.

I thought about snapping at him, but one look at his sweet face, so close to mine, and looking so worried, made me

change my mind.

"I will," I said, stepping around, and sitting back down in my spot at the table. "I'm just gonna sit down."

Even Guthrie was watching me by now.

"I'm not going to keel over or anything like that," I said. "You can all stop staring at me."

"We're just worried," Ford told me.

"I know," I said, and took another bite of the banana.

They seemed to relax a little bit then, with Ford finishing clearing the table and all of that.

I finished my banana, still holding the peeling. Guthrie had gotten up, going to retrieve a butcher knife and said, "I'll

get the watermelon cut up," as he headed out the back door.

"Don't eat it all," Ford hollered after him, as the door flapped shut.

"No promises!" Guthrie yelled back.

Left there in the kitchen with Evan and Ford, I watched as Ford began running water in the sink.

"So, you need to check your level again, right?" Evan asked me. "When?"

"Twenty minutes or so," I told him.

"Okay." Evan nodded.

I sat there at the table, still feeling a little weird, but definitely better than before. Eventually, all three of the boys

were sitting outside at the picnic table. Evan perched on top, with his feet resting on the seat, and Ford and Guthrie sitting

across from each other, and all of them eating the watermelon.

I was standing at the window, watching them, but they didn't see me standing there, I was sure. I thought about

going out to join them, but wasn't so certain that I'd be welcome, after all my snarky comments that I'd made. I

wandered into the living room, flopping into a chair, and clutching one of the sofa pillows to my chest. I was feeling

really sorry for myself for some reason.

7


	70. Beyond the grass

I just sat there for awhile, hugging the pillow to my chest, and staring at nothing. I heard Clarence, making his

crying sound at the front door, asking to be let inside.

I got up and went to the door, opening it and then the screen, too, holding it open so he could waddle inside.

"You're hot, huh, boy?" I greeted him.

While I was there, still holding the door open, I heard the braying of the burro. It seemed as though it was a good ways off, and the sound was

only being carried by the wind, every few minutes. I stepped out onto the porch, turning my head so as to listen better.

I went back inside, and up to my room, pulling on my socks and boots, ready to head out to investigate. Then, thinking better of

just disappearing that way, I grabbed a ball cap, pulling my ponytail thru the back and went thru the kitchen and outside.

The three of them were still sitting on, or at the picnic table, and had now progressed to having a watermelon seed spitting contest.

I walked up casually, and stood there, waiting for a break in their laughter and horsing around.

"Hey, Har," Ford greeted me. "Decide to have some watermelon after all?"

"No," I said, and then added belatedly, "Thanks. I'm gonna go check on something. I'll be back."

"Check on what?" Ford asked.

"I hear the burro. I just want to make sure he's okay."

"Where's he at?" Evan asked.

"I can't tell for sure. It sounds as though he's near the south somewhere."

"Well, just wait. One of us will go with ya," he said.

I repressed the urge I had to roll my eyes. "You don't need to. I'll be right back."

"Just wait a minute," he said again, as he spit another seed.

They were laughing and shoving each other, and talking about whose had gone the farthest.

I heaved a deep sigh. They were really getting on my nerves! Again!

"Did you check your level again?" Evan asked me then.

I wasn't going to tell him I hadn't. Just to set him going about how I wasn't being responsible or something like that.

So I lied. Actually, fibbed is more accurate of a word. I had every intent to check my level.

"Yeah."

"What was it?" he asked, looking at me.

"It's fine," I said, feeling exasperated. "Within normal range again."

Then, it was all suddenly too much effort. I didn't feel like being pleasant, or biddable, or obedient. And they were

obviously too busy with their silly antics of seed spitting.

I turned around and started walking back towards the house.

"We'll go look for the burro in a couple of minutes," Evan called after me.

"Never mind," I said, and kept walking.

"So are you goin' or not?" Ford called out.

"No!"

I went in the back door, slamming the screen extra hard. If any of the older three McFaddens had been there at that moment, they

would have made me open it again, and reclose it properly. Ah, but they weren't.

I marched thru the kitchen, into the living room, and past the dozing Clarence, right out the front door again.

I tugged my hat down more firmly on my head, and started walking, jetting around the long way, so as to not pass

where the boys would see me. I was halfway across the south pasture, when I saw Nancy's little red car coming up the driveway.

Since she didn't honk the horn, or stop to call out to me, I figured she hadn't noticed me. There, I thought, in satisfaction. She would

keep Evan occupied, until I got back to the house.

I trekked along, walking as fast as I could, and I wasn't surprised when I heard a yip, and then Warrior bounded up behind me.

"Hey, fella," I said. "Thanks for tagging along."

We walked, and I stopped every little bit, cocking my head to listen. I could still hear the burro every once in a while. When he did bray, it

was continuous for a bit, then he would stop for a while, and then begin again.

I finally found him, or saw him, rather, just a little further ahead of me. His head was the only thing sticking up above the

tall grass.

I whistled, and he looked my way, and began braying again. I liked to think that he was answering me.

Warrior gave a low growl, and I hesitated before stepping into the taller grass. Maybe it was a warning. I thought he might

sense a snake nearby. I gave a shudder.

I stood there, debating. I called out to the burro, some sort of nonsense thing, about how was he doing and all that. Hoping that

he would weave his way towards me himself, so I could stay where I was.

But, he didn't. He stood just where he was, and moved, so that for a couple of moments I couldn't even see the top of his head.

Then I heard a different sound. A moaning. And then he brayed again. Warrior yipped, and I shushed him. A grunting sound, then. The burro's

head came up above the grass line again.

I was hugely curious. But, I liked to think I wasn't stupid. Setting foot into that grass would be foolish. Snakes were a very real

likelihood. I bit my lip, considering my options. One was obviously to forego my little jaunt and head back to the house. The burro,

from what I could see anyway, appeared to be okay. The second option would be to go back to the house and get one of the guys to come and help me.

The third option, well, I remembered the old machete that hung up in the barn against the back wall. I could, I figured, hack away at the grass myself, with

the machete until I reached the burro.

So back to the house I trekked, after assuring the burro I would return soon.

When I got back near to the back side of the barn, I went around and slipped inside, finding the machete. I could hear voices and

laughing from around the back yard.

"I wonder who's the leader in the Great Watermelon Seed Spitting Contest of 1988," I muttered, and Warrior looked up at

me, as if in understanding.

I took the machete, and headed back out to the south again. The breeze that had earlier been carrying the sound of the

burro's braying, had now died down. It was just plain muggy. I wiped my arm over my forehead, feeling the sweat running

down the middle of my back. It seemed to take a lot longer to walk back this time than it had the first time. I felt the beginning

of the return of my headache. I regretted not slipping into the house to get a cold drink of water.

Finally, I was back over to where I'd stopped at before. The burro was still there, looking my way, but quiet.

I ordered Warrior to stay back, and I began swinging the machete back and forth, trying to chop at the grass. I'd only ever

fooled around with it in the past, mostly with Guthrie. Not seriously, and never with grass this height. Let me just say, it's not

as easy as it looks. My difficulty was compounded by Warrior, who refused to stay out of swinging range. I hollered at him, a couple

of times, and he cocked his head, looking at me in a puzzled way. I never yell at him, so I think he was surprised by the volume

of my voice.

I stopped to see my progress, and it wasn't much, I'll say that. My arms were already aching from swinging the machete around.

It felt overwhelming, seeing how little I'd accomplished. I felt suddenly like an idiot. Why hadn't I just ridden Charlie out here, or

even hopped on the four-wheeler and driven over?

There was more moaning from the direction of the burro. And the sounds of flopping in the grass.

What was that? And then, a pitiful sort of sound. An animal in pain. It wasn't the burro, because I could see his mouth, and he

wasn't making the sound. Warrior whined in distress.

I gathered my courage, and plunged into the thickness of the tall grass, praying that I wouldn't step on or around

a coiled snake. Just as I broke thru to where the burro stood, I saw what he was guarding. Watching.

The female burro, who had been with him the first time I'd seen him, that day with Ford, was prone on the ground, and

she was in the throes of labor.

7

For a few moments, I was caught up in the excitement. She was going to deliver a baby burro! I tried to shoo Warrior back, and

get closer, so that I could see better how she was progressing in her labor. The female burro gave me a sort of wide-eyed look, but

seemed to be in too much pain to care whether a human was standing there.

She moaned, and tried to get up, then went back down again.

I began to talk quietly, edging my way around to see what I could observe. I'd only been with Doc G on one call where a

horse was giving birth. And then, I saw our own horse, Polly give birth. But, I was in no way an expert, or even knowledgeable about

it. I couldn't tell if what was happening was normal, or if she was in some sort of trouble.

I sank down on my knees in the trampled grass, just watching for a while. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it

seemed as though the female burro was growing more fatigued. She was so tired that she made no attempt to protest when I

reached my hand out to touch her side. I knew suddenly that I was going to have to get some help for her. Somebody who was way

more 'in the know' than I was.

I heard honking, and turned my head. Another round of honking, and it dawned on me that one of the guys was

likely using the horn as a way to locate me.

I got up swiftly, and both burros seemed startled by my movement.

I murmured to them, and broke into a run. I ran until my breath gave out, and I felt sort of dizzy. I stopped, sinking to my knees.

Warrior sniffed at me, and then took off, yipping.

After a couple of minutes, I got up, and started walking as quick as I could, towards the house and barn.

Ford was the one who saw me first. He was on foot, and I heard him yell something out. It was obviously to

Evan, who appeared behind Ford, and Nancy, who appeared behind Evan.

The roaring of the four-wheeler broke thru and Guthrie rode toward me. I stopped walking, and he pulled up alongside of me,

letting the motor idle.

"What're you doin'?" he demanded of me.

"The burros are over there," I said, loudly, so as to be heard, and pointed. "She's having a baby!"

"For real?"

"Yeah!"

"Evan's pissed at you!" Guthrie informed me.

"Oh," I said, and then subsided, as the rest of the group was nearly upon us.

It was Ford, though, who started in on me first. "You said you weren't-" he began, and made a motion of a finger across

his throat to Guthrie, to tell him to turn off the motor.

Guthrie turned the key, going into silence, and Ford began up again.

"Where did you disappear to?" he demanded.

Before I could answer, he said, "You told me you weren't goin' looking for the burro."

Still no chance of me replying, because Evan was beside me, looking fit to be tied.

"What the hell, Harlie!" he said.

"Alright!" I said, deciding to just grab the bull by the horns, so to speak. "I came out here, after I said I wasn't going to! You

can yell at me later! I need you to come," I said, reaching out to pull Evan by the arm. "The burro's having a baby!"

Evan stood still, resisting my pull. "I don't think he is," he said, accentuating the word 'he', and sounding even madder.

"The female!" I told him, pulling again.

"I didn't know there was a female one," he said.

"Yes, there is," I said, finally stopping with my yanking. It wasn't budging him. I looked at him, pleadingly. "Please, Ev!"

I could see that his interest was piqued. He began walking, and as Guthrie would have started the motor on the four wheeler again,

I said, "No, Guth! She's really nervous. That noise will make it worse."

So our little group of five made our way thru the field, to the tall patch of grass. Evan surveyed the jagged grass where I'd

tried to swing the machete, and then reached down to pick it up from where I'd left it.

He gave me a look, and I knew there would be a reckoning later.

Ford took the machete, and began working his way thru the grass. Evan, meanwhile, headed on thru it, towards

the burros. Guthrie, too, was close behind.

"You girls wait till I get the grass down a bit," Ford ordered, to Nancy and I.

I thought about saying that I'd already walked thru it, and was none the worse for it, but as I opened my mouth to say so,

Ford gave me a glare that was very un Ford-like. So, I shut my mouth, and waited until he'd hacked a path thru.

Nancy took this opportunity to say, very low, to me, "You really believe in pushing the envelope, don't you, wild child?"

7

By the time Ford had leveled a path, and I was beside the burro again, Evan was crouched there, seeming to

be observing.

I went to his side, dropping to my knees. "What do you think?" I asked, sort of quietly. I didn't want to rile the

mama any more than she was already.

"She's been in labor for awhile, I think," Evan said, his voice quiet as well. "She's pretty worn out."

Nancy, still standing off to the side, said, "What can you do for her?"

"There's not much we can do," Evan said.

The burro groaned, and strained, raising her head a bit.

We were a silent group for awhile, and eventually Evan was able to run his hand down her side, and to her distorted belly.

He waited, gauging her reaction to the human touch. The female only looked at him out of wide eyes.

"I think she's scared," I whispered.

The sounds she made were pitiful. I looked at Evan in distress. "We have to help her," I said.

"She's not gonna let me do much," Evan said. "We just need to let nature take it's course."

It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but he knew what he was talking about. Evan did end up massaging the burro's belly,

and checking to make sure the baby was in the correct position to be born. The sun had begun to set when the

burro gave birth. It was a male. And it was dead.

7


	71. Under the Oak tree

When the baby burro was born, and not responsive, Evan began to massage it. Hard. He used the end of his t-shirt to try and wipe

mucus from the baby's nostrils. He put his finger in it's nose, to try to stimulate breathing. I watched, a lump in my throat. He worked

at it for a few minutes. I wasn't sure just how long. Ford kneeled down beside him, and wordlessly, they switched places, and Ford began

to do the massaging.

After a couple more minutes, Evan shook his head. "It's no use, Ford."

Ford looked reluctant, and went on massaging the baby burro for a bit longer. Then, he stopped, and sat back on his heels.

Guthrie and Nancy were standing, and I was on my knees beside Evan. The five of us were silent for a few moments, and then

Evan sighed, and stood up. I reached out to touch the baby burro. He was beautiful. At least to me, he was.

"He's perfect," I said. "What happened?"

"I don't know, Har," Evan said, and gave another sigh.

Nancy came over to kneel beside me. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders. And was silent. Just supportive.

I was grateful for her presence. Twenty minutes or more had passed, and I thought the mother burro should be

getting to her feet.

Evan read my worried glance at him, and said, "She's just tired, I think."

Now that she was thru the labor and birth, the female burro seemed to resent our presence. She kept flopping and

thrashing around.

"Let's back off," Ford said. "We're upsetting her."

I got up reluctantly, not wanting to just leave the baby lying there.

"I'll go get the tractor and loader," Ford said quietly, and Evan nodded.

"I'll go with ya," Guthrie said.

The two of them started walking back towards the barn.

I knew what they were planning to do, but Nancy asked, "What for?"

"We need to bury the baby," Evan said, in explanation. "She'll stay with it, and grieve until it's buried."

"Oh," Nancy said, looking shaken. "I didn't know they did that."

Evan crouched down again, and then said, "I'm gonna see if we have some Methergine. She's bleeding pretty badly."

"Do we have any?" I asked.

"I'll check. Come on."

"I want to stay here until you come back," I protested.

"Now, Har," Evan began.

"I'll stay with her," Nancy spoke up.

"Well, okay," Evan said, sounding reluctant. "But, don't crowd the Jenny. Peppy might get aggressive."

"Who's Peppy?" Nancy asked, looking confused.

"Dad," Evan modified, nodding towards the male burro.

After he'd gone, Nancy and I stood there, mostly in silence. She'd taken hold of my hand. The male burro stayed close

to the female, occasionally lowering his head to sniff at her.

"He wanted to get help for her," I said. "That's why he was calling for so long."

In answer, Nancy squeezed my hand harder. Standing there, I had the sudden thought of worry about Isaac.

"Where's the baby?" I asked Nancy.

"Marie stopped by to visit. She's at the house with him," Nancy told me.

"Oh," I said, relieved. "That's good."

The boys were back with the tractor and front end loader, Guthrie standing beside Ford as he drove. Evan was back, too. He'd

used the four-wheeler.

He came back over, and asked Guthrie to hold the female's head while he tried to insert a pill into her throat.

"I can do it," I said.

"You're not strong enough, if she gets to thrashing around," Evan said.

They did that, or attempted to. I couldn't tell if the pill got down, or not. Evan got a bit of hay that he'd brought,

and set it on the ground. Then he got up, going to put the supplies of the medicine back on the four-wheeler.

He and Ford began discussing the best place to bury the dead baby. They were tossing around suggestions such as

the fence row of our property. I listened, and then stepped up closer.

"Could we do it in the meadow?" I asked. "Where that big Oak tree is?"

The boys exchanged looks. The meadow was further away.

I knew that. I knew that they were tired after working all day. I knew that they were both fed up with my mouth. I knew that they were

irritated because I'd gone on my own to hunt the burro. I knew that they'd both already gone above and beyond, what they had to do to help the burros.

"Please," I said. I didn't drag out the word, or try to interject pity. I just said it, looking at them both.

Ford sort of nodded, and Evan said, "Alright."

"I don't suppose you'd go to the house," Nancy said, giving me a resigned look.

I shook my head. "I want to go with them."

So she and Guthrie and I walked, as Evan and Ford took the tractor, with the baby burro. When we got to the meadow,

we found a spot directly under the tree, and Ford began working the loader, digging a hole.

Once the hole was dug, and the little burro was placed in it, Ford began to cover the hole. When he was done, all three of the guys took

shovels and began to pat the ground down, making it even and flat again. That way any predators would be less likely to dig up the body.

When they were done with that, we stood, for a few minutes. Nobody said anything.

Ford and Guthrie moved to start walking back, as Evan got on the tractor to drive.

"Come on, Har," Guthrie said, his tone kind.

"I'm coming," I said. I was the last to leave the makeshift grave. Once back at the site of the two adult burros, we saw that

the female had gotten to her feet. Probably, I thought, because she wondered where we were taking her baby.

By now the sun was nearly down, its color orange.

I was still hesitating around the two burros, and Ford said, in a tone that suggested no argument, "We'll check on her in the morning. Let's

go up to the house."

I gave in, gracefully. I figured I was already in for a talking-to from him, anyway. I didn't want to make it any worse.

7

Evan and Nancy walked ahead, with Guthrie a bit behind. Ford fell into step beside me.

He was quiet for awhile, and I knew he was thinking out what he wanted to say to me.

"Sometimes I don't get you," he said.

"Well, we're even then," I quipped. "Sometimes I don't even get myself."

"Stop with the funny comments," he ordered.

"Okay."

"You've been a giant pain all day long," he said, and I could feel him watching me, as we walked.

"I know," I admitted.

"And don't use your diabetes as an excuse, either," Ford went on.

"Okay. I won't."

"Don't you have anything else to say?" he countered.

"I'm not going to argue with you," I said. "You're right."

Ford sighed. "Well, what's the matter?"

"I don't know. It's just one of those days, I guess."

He was giving me a doubting look then.

"I'll try to do better, Ford," I said, and I meant it.

"Okay," he said, after a couple of moment's hesitation.

7

Back at the house, Marie was sitting in the porch swing, holding Isaac. She talked for a few minutes to all of us, and

then said she needed to get going. As she left, she leveled a look at me, and took hold of my arm.

"The boys were worried about where you'd gotten off to," she told me, looking disapproving.

"I know."

Marie ran her hand over my hair. "I won't scold," she said. "I know they'll do that themselves."

When she'd gone, Guthrie went to take a shower. Evan, who'd already had his, began to wash up at the kitchen sink, scrubbing off

the itch from the tall grass, and the blood from the birth.

I went upstairs, changing to clean shorts and t-shirt, and scrubbing up in Hannah's bathroom.

When I went back downstairs, Ford was heading up to take Guthrie's spot in the shower.

Nancy was in the kitchen, along with Evan, and they were investigating the supply of snacks. Without saying anything, I went

down the basement steps, and to the freezer, propping the lid, and retrieving the two pies there. Hannah had marked them plainly with

white tape. 'Cherry', and 'Pecan'.

I carried them back up to the kitchen, which was empty now, and set about defrosting them in the microwave, and then cutting slices.

Guthrie ambled in as I was gathering up plates and forks to serve it on.

"Hey, pie!" he said, with enthusiasm.

"They were in the downstairs freezer," I said.

"Great. I want cherry," he said, and began to scoop out a piece onto a smaller plate.

"Guthrie," I spoke up swiftly. "I shouldn't have said that today about you hiding from Kenny. It was mean."

Guthrie met my eyes, pausing in his scooping of pie.

"I guess I was hiding," he admitted. "I was bein' a coward."

"I know it's hard for you," I said.

"It's hard for you, too. I know that. I mean, with your dog and everything else."

"He wasn't the one that shot Warrior, though. He told me. He kicked him. Hard, probably. But he didn't shoot him."

"And you believe him?" Guthrie asked.

"Yeah. I do."

"Well," Guthrie looked considering. "That's good."

We were in silence for a moment or so, and Guthrie popped a cherry from the pie into his mouth "I just don't get Kenny. How he

could get messed up with all of that."

"He says he was drinking too much," I offered. "And that he thought he could help with doctor's bills for his dad."

"Hmm," Guthrie said, and sighed.

For a moment, I felt awkward, wondering what to say to him next. I gave his arm a light punch. "Eat your pie," I told him, and

he gave me a half-grin, diving into the pie with relish.

After he'd gone back to the living room, I finished slicing up the pies, and put a piece of each on two plates. And then I went

to the living room, where everybody was gathered. The radio was playing country songs, and Nancy and Evan were sitting on the

couch, across from Ford, who was sprawled in the recliner, his feet hanging over the side, Isaac sitting on his stomach.

Guthrie was lying on his back on the floor, his arms folded under his head.

I went up and held out a plate to Evan, and one to Ford, both at the same time.

They both took the plates, looking at me questioningly.

"Where'd you get the pie?" Ford asked me. "I thought we didn't have any."

"It was in the downstairs freezer," I said, in explanation. "And, if anybody deserves pie, it's the two of you."

I went on talking, going to sit on the floor, cross-legged beside Guthrie. "Thanks for your help. With the burros."

This was the opening, if they should decide to take it. I thought if they wanted to holler at me for taking off like I had, and

being snarly, and all of that, well, I would accept it. I didn't think that Ford would, since he'd already said something to me earlier.

And, he didn't. He just began eating his pie. I looked towards Evan, waiting, but he didn't jump on me. He just said,

"Thanks. It looks good."

After that, I relaxed, and so did everybody else. I felt better than I had all day. I was eating a healthy snack. Apple slices dipped in

peanut butter. I'd checked my level while I was getting the pie, and everything was in the normal range again. So, I felt better physically.

And also, emotionally. Even though I was sad about the baby burro's death, I still felt more in tune with my brothers. More in sync.

While we all just sitting round, eating, and talking, Daniel got home from town. He went to get himself a piece of cherry pie, and then

sat down to join us. It grew later, and Nancy got around to head home. She said her goodbyes and Evan walked her out to her car.

Daniel and Guthrie headed up to bed, with Daniel taking the sleeping Isaac up to his crib.

I went to the kitchen to do my injection. Ford came in, too, carrying all the pie plates to put them into the sink.

I watched him, out of the corner of my eye, as I put my supplies away. I don't like being on the 'outs' with Ford. Well, in truth, I don't like

it with any of my brothers. And, I know that Ford doesn't like it, either. He hates confrontation.

"I'm gonna head up to bed," he was saying, as he ran water over the dishes.

"Okay," I said, and as he brushed past me, I reached out to touch his arm.

When he paused, looking down at me, I said, quietly, "Thank you. For what you did."

"It's okay, Har," he said. "Just try to wake up on the right side of the bed tomorrow, alright?"

"Yes," I said.

7

It was a bit later, and I was coming out of the bathroom, after brushing my teeth, and washing my face with Noxema. I was headed

to the right, towards my bedroom, when I heard a voice from the other end of the hallway.

"Harlie."

I paused, looking, and saw Evan standing there, at the doorway of his own room.

"Comere," he said, quietly.

I felt a moment of trepidation. I'd thought he was going to let me off, so to speak. I walked down the hallway, towards him. He pulled

his bedroom door shut again, so Ford wouldn't be bothered, I guessed.

I stopped a couple of steps from him.

"I think we need to straighten some stuff out," he began.

"Okay," I said, quietly.

"Why'd you go on out, lookin' for the burro like that? After I said one of us would go with you?"

I hesitated, licking my lips. "I just got irritated. And impatient."

"I said we'd go with you," he reminded me again.

"I know."

"So, why then?" he persisted.

I looked at him, plainly waiting for an answer from me. "Sometimes-" I began, and then stopped.

"Sometimes, what?"

"I was jealous."

"Huh?" he asked, obviously puzzled.

"You guys, all of you today, were all so-guy-some. Like the Brotherhood. I just felt left out."

Instead of telling me it was foolish of me to feel left out, that I didn't need to ever worry about anything such as that, or

otherwise trying to sooth my feelings, Evan was his usual blunt self.

"So you felt left out," he said flatly. "So what?"

I was taking that in, when he plunged onward.

"You can use that as an excuse to do whatever you want? Is that what you think?" he demanded.

"No. I don't think that," I denied.

"Well, you must."

I looked at him, trying to find the right things to say to him. I didn't want him to be mad at me.

"I know you don't like it, Harlie, but sometimes you just have to do what I tell you. No argument. Period," he went on.

"I know. I do listen to you," I said.

"Really?" he said, in a scoffing way. "When?"

I licked my lips again. "When Steven was here that night? And he wanted me to go out with him? Remember? I asked you, and you

said to stay home. "

Evan tilted his head, and said, slowly, "That's it? That's your example?"

"Well, I did listen," I said. "And I'm really glad that I did." I gave him an earnest look. "You were right. I would have been in a

mess if I'd gone with him."

Evan raised an eyebrow, plainly waiting for me to continue.

When I stood there, out of words, he sighed. "Okay. Let's use that example. You say you're glad you listened to me."

"Yeah."

"What about today? You could have gotten bitten by a snake in that grass. Or cut up by tryin' to use that damn machete. Just

because you didn't get hurt, doesn't mean that you couldn't have been."

"I should have listened," I admitted.

"And then you lied about it, sayin' you weren't going, when you had every intention to still go," he went on. "You were bein' a

real brat."

"Just like Reagan," I said.

I'd meant it as a sort of a joke, but Evan didn't look as though he thought it funny. Not at all.

"I'm just joking," I told him.

"Take this seriously, or I'm gonna get mad," he warned.

I gave him a wide-eyed look. "You mean you're not mad now? This feels as though you're mad."

Evan gave me a look, an eight on a scale to ten.

"Sorry," I said. I took a breath, and said, "I was wrong not to listen. I've been in a lousy mood all day, and I took it

out on everybody. I am sorry, Ev."

He sighed, studying me. "Okay."

For a long few moments, I was so, so relieved that it was over, the lecture, I mean, that I just felt wilted with tiredness. And I gave

Evan a tentative smile. He didn't exactly smile back, but he didn't look irritated anymore, either.

"Thank you for helping the burro," I said quietly.

Evan shrugged. "I didn't do much."

"You did," I argued. "You did a lot to help."

"Don't go out tonight in the dark to check on her," he warned me.

I held up three fingers. "Girl Scout's Honor," I said.

"Don't go alone in the mornin', either. I'll go with you."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Alright. Get to bed," he said, and turned towards his own doorway.

"Ev, wait," I said, and he paused, his hand on the doorknob.

"What?"

I hesitated, and then, I gave him a hug, wrapping my arms around his waist. After a couple of seconds, he hugged

me back. We stood that way for a few minutes, neither one of us saying anything.

When we separated, and I was almost to my own bedroom door, I looked back down the hall, to see him standing there,

watching me.

"You're a good brother, Ev," I said. "I don't tell you enough, but you really are."

"Thanks," he said.

"See you in the morning," I said.

"Yep. Goodnight."

7


	72. Hayloft hideaway

When I went down to breakfast the next morning, the kitchen was already abuzz with noise and conversation. 'Good mornings' were

tossed back and forth.

"You got to feeling better last night?" Hannah asked me, as I slid into my chair at the table. "The nap helped?"

"Yeah. It was fine," I said, thinking to evade her question.

"Her level was pretty low, there for a while," Ford tossed into the conversation.

I gave him a 'why'd you do that' type of look across the table, and mouthed, 'tattletale' at him.

"Was it?" Hannah asked, turning back to me.

"Yeah. But I nipped it," I said, sounding breezy. "Right in the bud."

"Oh," Hannah said, sounding as though she was considering. "Well, keep a good watch on it today, alright?"

"I will."

In a change of topic, I asked her about their evening out, and that turned the conversation to the movie that they'd gone to

see, and the differing opinions of it.

And, of course the events of the night before, the burros, and the birth of the baby, came up. It was while we were finishing up the meal, and

clearing the table.

It began when Brian asked why the tractor had been moved. Evan and Ford began the explanations, and I stayed mostly

silent, though I felt Adam watching me.

"What happened to the foal do you think?" Clare asked. "Or is it called a foal? A baby burro?"

"A foal, or a baby jack," Evan told her. "And I don't know what happened to cause it."

"Born dead?" Brian asked, pausing on his way to the sink to listen.

"Yeah," Evan said.

As the continued their conversation, heading out the back door, I saw them pause just outside. Crane, Adam, Brian and Evan.

I went to the screen, intent on listening.

Adam was asking Evan if the Jenny had retained her placenta, due to the labor being so long and the birth difficult. Evan told him no, and that

he'd given the Jenny a dose of medication, to help her along.

I wondered if Brian or Adam would object to the use of our animal's medication to help a wild burro. But, they both only nodded,

and I felt both relieved and ashamed. I should have known that they wouldn't begrudge an animal a helping hand.

"I told Harlie we'd go check on the Jenny this mornin'," Evan was saying.

"How'd it all happen?" Adam asked.

I wrapped my fingers around the screen door handle, waiting to see what Evan would say. I didn't think he would list my transgressions, about

how I'd charged ahead, not listening, but there was a small part of me that still worried he would.

"Harlie heard the Jack raising up a fuss. He was with the Jenny. She was already in labor," Evan said.

After that, they all started talking about other things. Work to be done, and all of that. When Evan looked my way, and

saw me standing there, inside the screen, he gave me a wink.

7

I had to wait until mid-morning to go check on the burros. It was well after ten o'clock before Evan had a chance to

go. We rode on the four-wheeler to the spot where they'd been, and found our jagged grass pathway.

There were no burro's ears, sticking out above the grass, though. I felt the first prickling of disappointment.

Evan was letting the motor of the four-wheeler idle, and sort of looking around.

"They wouldn't have gone far," I said. "Would they?"

"I don't know. Not too far, I wouldn't think."

"Can we ride a little further?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, and drove on, keeping his speed slow, while we both looked out across the fields.

We even rode all the way to the Oak tree, where the baby Jack had been buried. But there was no sign of either of the adult burros.

Evan paused, letting the motor idle again.

My disappointment had changed to concern.

"Maybe they went back nearer to the canyon," I suggested. "You know, to see if any of the herd was still there."

"Maybe," Evan said, though he sounded doubtful. "That's a far distance for her to travel, though, so soon after."

"But, it's possible, right?" I persisted.

"It's possible," he conceded. "Not likely, but possible."

"Can we take a ride up there?" I asked then. "Just to see?"

"I've got work to do," Evan said. "I can't be takin' that much time today."

"Oh," I said, sort of sitting back a little.

"Maybe later," he said, and I knew he was trying to make amends.

"Okay," I said, with a sigh.

Evan half-twisted on the seat of the four-wheeler, to look at me behind him.

"Don't go by yourself, either," he said, in warning.

"I won't, Ev."

"Okay," he said then, and began the drive back to the house.

7

I ended up being outside most of the rest of the day. I happened to be near to Guthrie during part of the day, while we

helped Adam clean out one of the sheds. There was also, Adam discovered, a significant leak in the roof of the shed.

I thought Guthrie seemed preoccupied, which for him, this summer anyway, was nothing new.

I was totally surprised, though, when at one point, Guthrie approached a subject that he'd been avoiding like

the plague.

"Hey, Adam?" he asked, as we worked on restacking a pile of lumber against the wall.

Adam, who was looking upward at that moment, surveying the roof of the shed, said, "What?"

"I was thinkin', about yesterday. When Kenny came over," Guthrie said.

"Yeah?" Adam said, stepping forward, and still peering upwards.

"I was wrong. Not to talk to him, I mean."

Adam turned his attention from the roof leak to Guthrie's face. "You think so?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Guthrie said.

For Guthrie to begin like that, with a 'sir' added that way, I knew he was very serious about what he was getting ready

to say. And Adam knew it, too, because his demeanor became more concentrated as well.

"What changed your mind?" he asked.

"I've just been thinkin' about it," Guthrie said. "And, also, it's somethin' that Har said."

Me? I nearly squeaked out the word.

Adam glanced at me, and then back to Guthrie again. Instead of asking what great piece of advice that I'd uttered, Adam

said, "What do you want to do about it?"

"He has court today, right?" Guthrie asked.

At Adam's nod, Guthrie went on. "I thought I might go over to his house tonight. See if I can talk to him."

"From what his parents said, he might be going from court to a detention center," Adam said.

"Yeah. I know. But, I was thinkin' that I'd try to go over there, anyway," Guthrie said.

"Alright," Adam said.

"And, if he's not home, you know, because he did have to go somewhere, then I'd like to try to visit him there. At juvie," Guthrie

said.

Adam half-sat on the pile of plywood that we'd been restacking. He was regarding Guthrie with a serious expression.

"No certainty how close to Murphys that he'd be sent to," Adam pointed out.

"I know."

"Well, go on over to the house tonight, and see what you find out," Adam agreed. "If he's been sent to a detention center,

then find out where it is, and come talk to me again." He hesitated, looking thoughtful. "I don't have a problem with you

going to see him, but I don't want you to go alone. It can be any one of us that go with you, whoever you want, but you take

somebody. Alright?"

Guthrie nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir."

Adam nodded again. "Okay," he said, and stood up again, bending to pick up another piece of plywood.

I gave Guthrie a swift glance, still surprised at the whole conversation, and especially the part about it being something that

I'd said.

7

I didn't have a chance to talk to Guthrie privately the rest of the afternoon. And, after supper, he did leave, saying he was

going over to the Harris's. I thought he might ask me to tag along, but he didn't. He asked Ford, instead. I tried not to mind, too much.

I mean, I understood, in a way. If you have to do something difficult, very difficult, then Ford, or Crane are the most calming

people to have with you. I wasn't so prideful that I thought myself to be a calming influence.

The next evening, Hannah had a special supper planned, sort of a going-away thing for Daniel. His comings and goings

were an accepted thing in our house by now, but Hannah always tried to make sure he had a send-off and also a special return

home meal.

She was talking over the guest list, which would include some neighbors, and Nancy, Cindy, and Marie, of course.

She was up early that day, organizing everybody. It was such a busy day, with the party planned, plus the regular work,

that I only had half a chance to talk to Guthrie. He told me that no one had been home at Kenny's house the night before, so he hadn't

been able to find out anything.

Hannah overheard our conversation, and paused. "Maybe we should try calling later today," she said. "And see if Kenny's

folks want to come to the get-together here tonight."

She turned to Adam, who was refilling his coffee cup. "What do you think, hon?" she asked him.

"I doubt they'll feel much like socializing," Adam said.

"Well," Hannah hesitated. "I guess that's probably right. But I could ask, don't you think?"

"Yeah. You can ask," Adam agreed, though I thought he sounded doubtful.

It was after Ford had returned from town, bringing home some more groceries for the evening, that he told the news

he'd heard in town. We were all just sitting down to lunch. It was hot in the kitchen, and there were two fans going.

"I heard about an arrest, while I was in town," Ford began.

That had everybody's attention at the table.

"Somebody we know?" Brian asked.

"Yeah. Well, sort of," Ford answered. He looked hesitant.

"Well, who is it?" Adam asked.

"It's Frank Mason," Ford said.

For a long few moments there was silence at the entire table. I nearly couldn't wrap my thoughts around what Ford had said.

I looked to my right, to Guthrie, and he looked at him.

"Well, are you sure?" Hannah asked Ford. "Or is it possibly only a rumor?"

"I think it's true enough."

Part of me wanted to cheer. I mean, if Kristin and her mother could be free of Frank, then that would make their whole lives

better. Wouldn't it? He would go to jail, and then they could rebuild a life, without him in it.

I wondered if Guthrie was thinking the same as I was.

"What could he have been doin', chasin' the Mustangs?" Brian asked, sounding doubtful. "Drunk most of the time, isn't he?"

"I don't know," Ford said.

"It's frightening to think of him, running around with a loaded gun," Crane said. Harsh words, for Crane.

"Poor Linda," Hannah said, quietly, speaking of Kristin's mother.

Now that I did not understand.

"Why, 'poor Linda'?" I asked Hannah. "Now they'll be free of Frank."

Hannah gave me an intent look, though it wasn't condemning. "I'm thinking of how embarrassing it will be for her," Hannah said. "And

for Kristin, too."

Well, now that made me stop and think. I'd only been thinking of Frank's arrest as a good thing. But, of course it was going to

be embarrassing for Kristin and her mom. Just like the Harris's embarrassment about Kenny.

"Oh," I said, subsiding.

"I'll try to call Kristin," Guthrie said.

"Finish your lunch first," Hannah told him.

"Is it alright if she comes over tonight, for Daniel's thing?" Guthrie asked.

"Of course it is. Her mother is welcome, too," Hannah said.

I got stuck doing the lunch dishes, but it wasn't so bad, because Brian hung around to help me, even though

it wasn't his turn. They were all pretty much done working for the day, so that they could help set things up for the

supper. So, he had time to spare. Still, I appreciated him helping when he didn't have to.

There were comings and goings, in and out of the kitchen, with preparations. So, I washed and Brian dried, and we

didn't really have much of a conversation between us. That is, until things settled down, and we were left alone.

Brian started asking me about the burro again, and so I launched into talking about it, and how I thought that the

Jack had been calling out for help for his Jennie. Usually, when I say something like that, Brian dismisses it as being

'far-fetched' or romanticized, or whatever. This time, though, he didn't scoff.

"Could be," he said.

"The baby was so perfect, Bri," I said. "I mean, he was all formed and everything."

When Brian was quiet, opening the upper cabinet door to put some plates away, I said, "What do you think might have

caused it?"

"There's a world of things that could have gone wrong," he said. "It's hard to say just what it was."

"It would have been fun, having a baby Jack around," I said, and immediately felt his gaze on me. I turned to meet it, refusing

to withdraw my statement.

"It would have, Bri," I said, his eyes intent on me.

"You are somethin' else, kiddo," he said, putting another dried plate into the cabinet.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means that I'm not gonna argue the right or wrong of you thinkin' what you're thinkin'."

7

I was so tired of scurrying around, helping get things ready, that I only wanted to find a place to hide out. I did, in fact

slip out to the barn, and climb to the loft, just for a few minutes free from Hannah's harried preparations.

I was sitting near the loft openings, feeling a bit of breeze, and reading my book, when I was practically shocked

out of my skin by a tuft of hay being tossed at the back of my head. At first thought, I believed it was a spider web or something.

I jumped, and squealed, brushing at my hair, and then heard laughter behind me. I whipped around to see Daniel, his head at the top of the ladder.

"Gosh darn you, Daniel!" I said, still brushing at my hair. "I thought I'd scooted into a spider web!"

Daniel laughed again, and said, "So, can I come up?"

"I suppose," I said, with mock sternness.

"I come bearing gifts," Daniel said, reaching into his back pockets to pull out two bottles of Coke. He handed me one, and

sat down across from me.

"How are we supposed to open them?" I asked. "With our teeth?"

"I brought an opener," he said, holding it up, and popping the cap off his bottle, and then passing the bottle opener to me.

I opened my own bottle of Coke, and laid the opener aside. I took a long drink of the cold Coke.

"I'd almost forgotten how good a Coke tastes," I said.

"Is it alright for you to have it?" Daniel asked then. "I wasn't thinkin' about how much sugar it has in it-"

"It's fine," I told him.

"Okay. Good."

"How'd you know I was up here?" I asked, taking another drink.

"My phychic abilities," Daniel said, taking a drink and then grinning at me.

"Uh huh," I scoffed.

"It wasn't hard to figure out," he said then. "Ever since you were a tadpole, you've been hidin' either up here, or in

the treehouse, or down at the creek."

"A tadpole, huh?" I asked.

"Yep. A tadpole."

"I guess I need to figure out some new hiding places," I said teasingly.

"I'd still be able to find ya," he said.

In the next few minutes of silence, I watched Daniel, as he looked out, over the back pastures. I felt suddenly emotional over

the thought of him leaving the day after tomorrow.

"I'm gonna miss you something fierce," I said quietly.

He turned his gaze back to me. "I'll miss you, too."

For a couple of moments, we just looked at one another, and then Daniel set his bottle aside, and reached down

to pick up a handful of loose hay. He let it filter down thru his fingers.

"You've come a long way this summer," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"You're more settled. You think things thru more than you did. You're more honest."

I held his praise to me like a hug. Then, in truth, I said, "I don't always think things all the way thru."

"Well, maybe not always. But, much better than before," he said, and I knew he was thinking of my

'misadventure' of taking off to Tennessee to see him.

"Thanks, Daniel," I said, smiling at him.

"You're grown up," he said, and then added, with a grin, "Well, not totally. There's still some little girl mixed in there

somewhere."

I tossed some hay at him. "You couldn't just leave it with saying the nice stuff, could you?" I accused.

"I don't want you gettin' a big head, or anything," he said, and tossed a handful of hay right back at me.

7

Our BBQ for Daniel was a smaller group than Hannah had planned, but it was, according to Daniel, just

right the way that it was. Only the Petersons came, as far the neighbors went. Marie came, and Nancy, and Cindy, who

sat with Crane, while he manned the BBQ grills. At one point, when I went over to say hello to Cindy, she

asked me if I'd thought any more about the work study program that was going to be offered, where college credit

could be earned.

I told her that I was really interested, and considering it seriously. She was enthusiastic about it, and I

shared with her that I'd discussed it with Crane, as well.

"That's great," she said, smiling at me, and then at Crane.

"I told Harlie she has things to be preparing for first," Crane offered to the conversation. He gave me a

look then, and I interpreted it correctly.

"I will," I said. "It's only been a couple of days."

Cindy went on talking then, and Crane didn't say any more about how I was supposed to be boning up on trigonometry

with Ford, as Crane and I had agreed in our talk.

Even though I sometimes almost slipped up and said 'Miss Noel' to her, I found that the more I talked with her, in settings such

as here, at the house, the more that I liked her. She was interesting. She'd been an 'army brat' growing up, and had lived all over

the United States, before settling in California.

Protective as I am, I asked her, in a round about way, if she planned to move all around over her life, or wanted to stay in one

place. I knew that Crane wouldn't be happy bopping all around. He liked the area we lived in, and if he fell for somebody that

had wanderlust, it could be difficult for him. Not to mention the fact that I didn't think I could manage without him being nearby.

Cindy shook her head in answer, laughing a bit. "No, I'm tired of living like a gypsy. I like having roots, in a certain place."

"That's good," I said, feeling satisfied, and smiling at Crane as he looked my way.

He raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew that my questioning had been transparent, at least to him. He knew very well

why I'd asked what I had.

7


	73. Drive with Daniel

The next afternoon, Daniel and I went to a movie in Modesto. He let me choose which one I wanted to see. We ended up seeing 'Big' with Tom Hanks.

We both had popcorn during the movie, and when we came out of the crowded theatre, Daniel dropped the nearly empty popcorn

buckets into the trash.

"What now?" he asked me. "Want to get somethin' to eat?"

I wasn't all that hungry after all that popcorn that I'd eaten, but I figured he might be, so I shrugged and said, "Yeah. Sure."

After some debate, we ended up going to a nicer restaurant, the sort with cloth napkins. Daniel said he didn't feel like

eating at a fast food place. He wanted a steak, or something like that.

After the waitress had taken our orders, and then brought a big bowl of salad to the table, along with our drinks, I took the

tongs, filling my own small bowl.

As I handed the tongs off to Daniel across the table, I let me gaze drift around the restaurant, as I swirled French dressing

over my salad.

I saw a couple come into the restaurant, pausing as they waited to be seated.

For a long moment I just sat there, my fork paused in mid-air. I couldn't believe it. I mean, what were the odds?

It was Eddie, with a girl that I'd never seen before. This particular girl had dark, straight hair, and wore really tight slacks,

with a sweater that I knew was cashmere.

Daniel, noticing my sudden silence, and halting of eating, said, "What's wrong?"

I forced myself to look away. "Nothing."

Even I looked back down at my salad, I could tell, out of the corner of my eye, that Daniel was looking around, behind

him, to see what I'd been eying.

"That's Eddie, isn't it?" he asked me, turning back to face me.

"Yeah."

The waitress brought our orders at that time, placing plates in front of both of us.

"You alright?" Daniel asked me, quietly, as he began to cut up his steak.

"Uh huh." I picked up my knife and began to do the same.

Even though I tried not to appear to be staring, I could see Eddie and the girl being seated, just to the right of my line of vision. The girl

sat down first, and then Eddie. He sort of had his back half-turned to us.

I could feel Daniel's eyes on me, and I looked up. I could read the sympathy in his expression. I sort of wished that he wouldn't look

quite so sympathetic.

"It's fine," I said.

"We can leave if you want to," Daniel said.

I gave him my full attention. I felt a tightening near my heart. Only Daniel. He was the only one that I knew of, well, except for

Ford, maybe, that would offer to leave a just-arrived steak, simply because I might be uncomfortable.

"No. It's okay. Really," I assured him.

Daniel nodded, and after that I felt a little better. Daniel had taken his time, and money, to do something that he thought

I'd enjoy. He deserved my appreciation, not me being a sad sack, and ruining his meal. So we talked. Mostly about what

all he was going to be doing, once he'd returned to Nashville. In a way, his talking like that made me feel a little weepy, but

I tried not to show it, because his happiness and enthusiasm was shining thru. He was so animated while discussing

the band, and what numbers they might do, when they opened the show for Eddie Rabbitt.

I was telling him which one of the mentioned songs I liked the best, when I saw, from the corner of my eye, the

girl walking towards the hallway that led to the restrooms.

Eddie, looking around a bit, settled his gaze near us, and then I could tell when he spotted us. His face sort of lit up

and he raised a hand to me in greeting.

I waved back, trying to appear casual. And then, before I could warn Daniel, Eddie was standing up, and coming

towards our table, his steps purposeful.

I felt the butterflies in my stomach, just like I always do when I first see Eddie. And then, suddenly, he was there,

beside our table.

"Hi, Harlie," he said, giving me that perfect smile of his.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey, Daniel," Eddie said then.

"Hey, Eddie," Daniel returned, and the two of them shook hands.

He and Daniel exchanged conversation for a couple of minutes, about what the other had been up to, and all of that.

Every couple moments, Eddie's look returned to me, though, and he would smile again. I felt my face turn warm, though I wasn't

sure just why. I mean, I'd danced at the Fourth of July celebration with Eddie just weeks before, and I hadn't felt so

embarrassed or shy. Maybe it was the intensity of his gaze, or something.

After that, Eddie asked me how I was, and if I'd been keeping busy.

I answered, conscious of Daniel's observing gaze across the table.

As the girl reappeared at their table, and then started our direction, to join Eddie, he was saying something about

the heat. An ornery impulse came over me, and I said, just as the girl was walking up, "Yeah. It's really hot. Especially

if you're wearing a sweater. Or something."

Eddie got my full meaning of my sweater comment, as his date came to stand at his side, resplendent in her

cashmere sweater.

He gave me another smile, and said, "I'd say you have a point there, Harlie."

I felt my face turn all warm again, and then Eddie introduced the girl to Daniel and I. Sadie. That was her name.

Daniel said hello, and I managed to say 'hi'.

After that, Daniel and Eddie talked a little more, about some of the jobs that Eddie had been working on, out

of the area, and about Daniel's return to Nashville.

I studied the girl, trying not to be caught at it. I'm not very good at telling people's ages, but she looked as

though she was a couple years older than me. She was attractive, though not in the classic sense of being beautiful.

She was observing me, as well. I could tell that she was, though I didn't really understand why.

When she and Eddie got around, to prepare to leave, he shook Daniel's hand again, and then reached out

to touch my hand, the one that I wore the bear ring on. The ring he'd gotten from the gum machine at the pizza place.

"Still have it, huh?" he asked me then, and smiled.

"I still have it," I answered, and he nodded, and then, said goodbye, and they left.

Daniel had finished off his entire steak, and he nodded towards my plate.

"Are you finished?" he asked me.

I said that I was, and he went to pay the check. As we were walking out of the restaurant, the sun was

setting, and there was a bit of a breeze.

"Ready to head home?" Daniel asked.

I knew he planned to leave really early the next morning, and I didn't want him going without sleep to begin that

long drive to Nashville.

"Yeah," I told him, and, once we were in the cab of his truck, and starting for home, we were both

quiet for a bit.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"Thanks for the movie. And supper."

"You're welcome." He looked over at me. "Did it bother you? Seein' Eddie tonight?"

He didn't add the words, 'with another girl', but I knew what he meant.

I considered for a moment, and then said, honestly, "No. I mean, it didn't ruin the night, or anything."

"That's good."

"Maybe I shouldn't have said what I did, do you think? About her sweater?" I asked him.

"I don't think it upset Eddie too much," Daniel said, and I thought he sounded amused.

"I don't see how her pants could get any tighter," I added, and Daniel chuckled.

"What?" I asked, turning to him.

"They were pretty tight alright," he said, in answer.

"She was pretty, though," I conceded.

"Yeah. She was."

I twisted to face him in the truck cab, as he drove. "Do you think I could be more like that?"

"Why would you wanna be?" Daniel countered.

"Well, that seems to be Eddie's type. Sort of-" I hesitated, trying to think of the correct word. "Well, sexy. Slinky."

"You're not exactly the 'slinky' type, squirt," Daniel said.

I sighed, and leaned back against the truck seat. "I know. Darn it."

Daniel let out a laugh, and I said, a bit indignantly, "What's so funny?"

"You are. You really don't have any idea at all, do ya?"

"Any idea about what?" I demanded, sitting up straight again. "You mean about-sex? I know all about sex, Daniel."

Daniel stopped laughing, and gave me a mock-stern look. "I wasn't talking about sex, exactly. But-" he pointed at me. "We'll

come back to just how much you know about that, in a bit."

"Well, what were you talking about?" I asked, curiously.

"I'm talking about Eddie, and his 'type' of girl. He's a young guy. He's out meeting different girls. It doesn't mean he's serious

about any of them."

This was the great secret, the one that Daniel thought I had no idea about? Just as I opened my mouth to tell him so, he went on,

and effectively, by what he said next, stunned me.

"He likes you, squirt. That's what I'm sayin'. You have no idea just how much that he likes you."

Stunned into silence for a few moments, and then I said, "I know he likes me, a little. He's always nice to me, and he

did want to go out with me last fall-"

"He likes you more than just a little," Daniel said, and rolled his window down the rest of the way, to usher a flying

bug out.

Daniel sounded so certain. "How do you know that?" I asked him.

"Because I'm a guy. And, I know how guys act, when they like a girl. It's the way Eddie looks when he's watchin' you."

I felt a surge of hope, and excitement. "You really think so, Daniel?"

"I know so."

"Wow," I said, and sort of sat back against the seat again.

"Give up the idea of tryin' to be 'slinky' and all of that," Daniel went on. "Be who you are. That's what caught his eye to

begin with."

I undid my seat belt, and scooted over to the middle of the truck seat, hooking my arm thru his.

"Thanks, Daniel," I said, in gratefulness.

"It's okay. My advice is free," he said.

7

Daniel left the next morning. Early. Before the sun was even up. I'd known that he would do it that way. Leave before the

house had risen. Leave without pomp and circumstance. I came down the stairs, hearing voices from the kitchen.

Adam, though, he was on the front porch. I went to the screen door and paused, watching him.

He had a cup of coffee in one hand, and was leaning against a porch pillar, looking out across the pastures. I watched, but

didn't see him take even one sip. He just held the cup in his hand, and I knew he was thinking of Daniel.

I pushed the screen open, glad when it didn't squeak. He heard me, though, because he turned his gaze to the left, to me.

"Morning, sugar," he said.

"Good morning."

I stood beside him, and after a few minutes of silence, I said, "Your coffee's going to be cold."

"Hmm?" he asked, looking to me again.

"You haven't taken even one sip of it," I said.

"Oh," he said, and took a drink. He grimaced, and tossed the coffee over the porch railing. "You're right. It's cold."

"I can get you some more, that's hot," I offered.

"No, that's alright. I'll go inside in a couple of minutes, and get some," he said, and smiled at me.

"Okay."

He reached out and ran a hand over the center of my back.

"Are you worried about Daniel?" I asked him, quietly. "He'll stop driving, if he gets too tired."

"I know he will." He rubbed my back. "I still worry, though," he admitted.

I nodded in understanding. "Me, too."

He pulled me over, and kissed the top of my head. "Let's get some breakfast, alright?"

"Okay," I said, and he pulled open the screen door, which squeaked this time.

7

Guthrie went to town with Crane later in the morning, and when they came back, they had Kristin with them.

I'd been hanging wet clothes onto the clothesline to dry in the sun, when they pulled in, and I left my chore to

run and greet her. We met in the yard, and hugged.

"I didn't know you were coming over," I told her, in excitement.

"I didn't know, either. I ran into Guthrie at the store, and they drove me back to drop off Mom's groceries, and then

Crane said I should just come on home with them!" Kristin said.

I gave Crane a grateful look, as he went past us, his arms full of grocery sacks.

Kristin went in the house to say hello to Hannah, and then came out to help me finish hanging the clothes in the basket.

She and Guthrie and I had a low conversation, and she brought us up to date on what was going on, with her, and

Frank, and the other news in town.

"Is it true?" I asked her. "About Frank?"

"Yeah, it's true," Kristin said. "Mom's a wreck about it."

"What was he doin'?" Guthrie asked.

"I guess they had him driving one of the trucks," Kristin said. "I mean, I'm not really sure, but that's what

he finally told Mom. They just came to the trailer day before yesterday, and knocked on the door, and arrested him."

I'd never seen anybody be arrested before, and I wondered if they'd read Frank his rights and handcuffed him and all

of that, like they do on television. I didn't ask though.

Eventually, Kristin answered all of that, anyway. Brian came to the door of the barn, and catching sight of the three of us

standing there, he hollered. First to Guthrie, to come and help him. Then, instead, he walked over to where we stood to greet

Kristin.

"Hey there," he said, giving her a smile.

"Hi, Brian," Kristin said, in answer, and seemed embarrassed. She sort of ducked her head, and didn't look him in the eye.

I wondered why. I mean, I knew that Crane had always been Kristin's favorite of all the older guys, but Brian had always

been nice to her.

"It's good to see ya," Brian went on.

"Thank you," Kristin said, still seeming stiff. "Crane said it was alright if I came over-"

"Sure, it's alright," Brian said. "It's great."

"Thanks," Kristin said, again, still looking at her shoes.

Brian flicked a glance at Guthrie, and at me, his forehead wrinkled a little. In puzzlement, I knew. But, he only

said, "Well, see you girls later. Can you help me out for a few minutes, Guth?"

"Yeah. Sure," Guthrie said, though he seemed reluctant to leave Kristin's side. He squeezed her hand, and then went off, following

after Brian.

We finished hanging the clothes then. I wondered why Kristin had acted that way with Brian. Before I could ask, she

told me herself.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come," she said, hanging a towel on the line.

"What?" I asked, stopping what I was doing. "What are you talking about? It's great. We can eat a bunch, and watch

a movie, or get Clare to French braid our hair-or maybe go for a swim."

Kristin stopped, as well, and lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

"We can do whatever you want-" I began.

"No. It's not that. I want to do all of that stuff. I'd rather be here than anywhere."

"So, what do you mean, then?"

"I just got to thinking-" she hesitated, "Maybe it will make everybody feel weird, with me being here, I mean."

"No, it won't," I denied. "Why would it?"

"Because. Because of Frank. I mean, he was one of the people that did the damage to the fences around here. Maybe

even your fences. And-"

"That's just dumb," I told her stoutly. "That has nothing to do with you!"

"I know that up here," Kristin said, tapping her forehead. "But, I still feel it. I can't help it."

"You're just talking crazy," I said. I wasn't sure what to say to convince her she was wrong.

We finished with the clothes, and went into the coolness of the house. We helped get lunch ready, and it was while

Kristin was setting the table, and talking to Hannah and Clare, that I heard the stomping of boots just outside.

I hustled quickly, going out and closing both the back screen door, and also the wooden one.

I was standing there, right in front of the doorway, and so they came to a stop. Brian and Adam, followed up by

Ford.

"You're in the way between me and food," Brian told me, jokingly.

"I want to tell you something first," I said, lowering my voice, even though I knew that Kristin wouldn't be able to hear.

"What?" Brian asked.

"Kristin thinks that you all might look at her differently. Feel different about her," I said.

"Why would she think that?" Adam asked.

"Because. Of Frank. You know."

"That's just nonsense," Adam said.

"I know. I tried to tell her that. But, I don't think she's really convinced."

"That why she wouldn't look me in the eye?" Brian asked me.

I nodded, and he said, "Well, I'll talk to her."

"Don't jump on her, Bri," I said.

"I won't. I'm not a complete buffoon, you know," he said, and gave my braid a tug.

"I know that. I just meant-well, you know," I said, my voice trailing off.

"We'll take care of it, sugar," Adam said, and edged me out of the way, so they could go inside.

7


	74. Continue to crusade

During lunch, the conversation was on several topics, but none of them were about the Mustangs, or the case going on around

it. The whole family, I knew, made a concentrated effort to avoid that subject, so as to protect Kristin from any more feelings of unease.

Hannah was talking about Daniel, and how he was supposed to call when he got the chance, to let everybody know he was alright.

"It's a terrible drive," I said, without thinking, and instantly felt like kicking myself. Hannah looked even more

worried.

"Well, but he'll stop for the night," I reassured her.

"He'd better," Hannah said.

"I'll be kickin' his butt if he doesn't," Brian said, reaching for the bbq sauce.

As we were helping to clear the table, Hannah asked Kristin and I what we were going to do that night. As an afterthought,

she asked, "You're staying the night, aren't you?" to Kristin.

Kristin hesitated, and then said, "Well, I'd like to, if it's alright."

"Of course it is," Hannah told her, with a smile.

After that, everybody was talking and tossing ideas around. When Evan said that he had plans with Nancy for later, when

she got off of work, I popped up and suggested a night picnic, by the creek.

"You and Nancy can come," I told Evan. "And Ford, and maybe we could invite Trent and Lori over, too." I flicked my gaze to

Hannah for permission. "Is that okay?" I asked.

"It's fine," Hannah said.

"I don't know what Nancy had planned," Evan said.

I waved a hand at him. "She'll want to hang out here and go to the creek," I said, with confidence.

Guthrie went off to call Trent, and Kristin and I helped clean up the kitchen, and talked to Hannah about food for the picnic.

Kristin and I got to talking about how good smores would be, and I started rooting around in the cabinets for the supplies to

make them.

When I only found graham crackers and marshmallows, and not any Hershey candy bars, I turned, from where I was standing on

a step stool, so as to reach the taller cabinets, and looked at Hannah.

"No candy bars," I told her.

"Oh, well," she said.

Kristin and I exchanged looks.

"Can we go to town and get some?" I asked.

Hannah paused in her chore of putting the dried glasses away.

"You could have other snacks," she pointed out. "Right?"

"Right," I admitted. "But, gosh, Hannah, when you have a bonfire, you just about have to have smores."

Hannah looked from me to Kristin, and then back to me again. She shook her head, smiling.

"I don't mind," she said. "It hasn't been that long since there were all those guys in town, that were causing trouble, though.

Better check with Adam or Brian first about going."

I started to complain about that. It was sort of ridiculous, I thought, that she couldn't just say yes, and tell me it was

alright to go. But, I controlled myself, and got down from the step stool, and motioned for Kristin to follow me.

We were walking across the yard, and I muttered a complaint to Kristin.

"I don't see why I have to ask anybody else," I said.

"It's not a big deal," Kristin said.

I knew she was right, but it still niggled at me.

The trouble ensued when we couldn't find anybody. I mean, the entire crew of male McFaddens seemed to have

disappeared.

"Gosh darn it," I said, as we stood beside the barn, just looking in all directions.

"We can bake some cookies, instead," Kristin suggested.

"We'll just go on to town," I said. "Let me run up and grab some money."

"Hannah said to ask-" Kristin reminded me, looking slightly nervous.

"It's fine," I said, waving a hand. "I'll tell her."

Hannah, however, was on the telephone when I came back down from collecting money from my bedroom, and I just

waved, and mouthed the words, "Going to town," at her.

She waved in return, and I went on out, and down the front porch steps, walking over to where Kristin was waiting.

We were in my truck, and I had actually started the engine, ready to put it into reverse, when I paused, and just

sat there.

"What's wrong?" Kristin asked me.

I sat, my hands on the steering wheel, thinking. And, I found I just couldn't do it. To take off, even if it was just to

town to buy candy bars, after Hannah had told me to check with my brothers first, well, I just couldn't do it.

It reeked too much of my foray to Daniel's in the spring. I knew that the two things weren't even remotely

close to being the same thing. But, still. Although I could probably go to town, buy the chocolate bars, and we would be back,

and Hannah would never think to mention to Adam or anybody that she'd told me to ask them about going.

But, again, still.

It just wasn't worth it. I'd worked hard to rebuilt trust, and even though I'd occasionally 'fallen off the trust wagon',

such as the night Adam discovered me out in the dark, searching for the burro, this still felt different.

I reached down and turned off the key in the ignition, and sat back, looking at Kristin's face.

"I don't think I'd better," I told her. "Not without telling Adam, or somebody else. They'd think I was being

sneaky, and it's not worth it, just to get candy bars."

Kristin nodded in understanding, and I thought, a little bit of relief.

So we trekked back into the house, and I went to put my money away again. When I came back down the stairs, Hannah

was just hanging up the telephone.

"Adele sure can talk," Hannah said, lightly, speaking of a woman from church, who'd apparently been on the telephone. Then she

looked at me in question. "I thought you were going to town."

I could have told Hannah. She wouldn't have been mad at me or anything. She would have likely told me that

she was glad I'd made the right decision.

But, I didn't go into detail. I settled for saying, "I changed my mind. Maybe Lori or Nancy can bring some candy bars, if I ask."

Hannah nodded in approval. "Good idea," she said, with a smile.

I made a mental note to myself to give Hannah a big hug later.

7

Our evening at the creek was fun. The whole bunch of us, which included Ford, Evan and Nancy, Guthrie and Kristin,

Trent and Lori, and me, made a big bonfire on the creek bank, and roasted hot dogs and smores. We did some swimming, too, and floated

around on the old rafts we had.

There were brief moments throughout the evening, mixed here and there, that I thought of Daniel, and wished he were

here, hanging out. Swimming, and splashing around. And getting his fingers all messy with the melted marshmallows.

I felt Ford at my elbow, as he reached for another piece of chocolate.

"I miss him, too," he said, really softly, close to my ear. I turned to look at him, and nodded. He gave me a half-smile.

"Not much longer and you'll be gone, too," I said, feeling emotional. "Back to college."

"Time marches on, Har," he said.

"I don't like it," I complained.

"No way to stop it. You just have to roll with it."

"I know all that. I still don't like it."

"Daniel won't stay gone so long this time. He'll come back more often than he did before," Ford said.

"Did he say that to you?" I asked hopefully.

"Not exactly. But, I know he will."

"I hope so," I said, fervently.

7

The next morning, I got up early, stepping around Kristin, installed on her bedside cot, and took my clothes to the

bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub to pull on my jeans.

I went back into my bedroom, just long enough to grab my brush from the top of the dresser.

"Where are you going?" Kristin asked, sounding as though she was barely awake.

"Going out to ride," I told her. "Want to come?"

"Will you be mad if I say no?"

"No, silly," I said. "It's early."

"How early?"

"Five-thirty."

Kristin groaned. "Ugggh," she said.

I went out, closing the door, and down the stairs, carrying my boots in my right hand.

The living room, not surprisingly, was empty. I went on toward the kitchen, where Adam was sitting at the

kitchen table, the every-present cup of coffee in front of him. He had a newspaper spread open in front of him. Only the light over the sink was on.

"Morning," I said, quietly.

"Morning," he said, turning to look at me. "You're up early for not having gotten to bed until late."

I went to get down my favorite coffee cup, and poured coffee into it.

"I woke up, and decided to just get started on my day," I told him, sitting down in the chair just next to him.

"What time did you all wrap it up last night?" he asked.

"It was almost midnight. Lori and Trent left before that, because she always has to be in early if her dad's at

home."

"Have fun?" he asked then.

"Yeah, it was a lot of fun."

"That's good," he said. "There's eggs, there on the stove."

I thought for a moment, and then got up, going to get a bowl and spoon, and the box of cereal on top of the

refrigerator. "I think I'll just have cereal," I said, going to sit back down again.

"What about your protein?" he asked.

I reached out to take a piece of toast from the plate, and spread peanut butter over it. I held it up, "Wal-la," I told him.

"Good girl," he said, taking another drink of coffee, and beginning to read the newspaper again.

I ate my toast, and then poured cereal into my bowl.

"Did Daniel call last night?" I asked.

"Yeah. He did. It was after nine."

"And he was stopping at a motel for the night?" I went on, pouring milk over my cereal.

"Yeah."

"Okay," I said, feeling relieved. "That's good, then."

Adam gave me a half-smile, and I went on. "It's exciting, isn't it? About Daniel getting to open for Eddie Rabbitt?"

"It's a good opportunity, alright," he agreed.

I was quiet for a few minutes then, eating, and half-watching Adam, as he continued reading.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked him.

"Shoot," he said, not looking up.

"Do you wish that Daniel was able to be happy here? And not leave?" I realized how that sounded and I added, "I mean, I

know he's happy when he's here, and all, but I mean, do you wish that this was enough to satisfy him?"

Adam pushed the newspaper away a bit, and sat back in his chair. He looked serious, and contemplative.

"That's a loaded question, there," he told me.

I waited, and he went on, "Part of me wishes that," he said in honesty. "I'd be content if every one of you babies stayed

right here. But, this isn't what makes Daniel who he is. It's not what completes him. So, I have to support him, and try to

smile while I'm doing it."

I was still for a moment. He'd answered me directly. Honestly. No punches pulled. And I saw the bit of sadness in his

face, though there was pride there, as well.

For a moment, I felt sort of emotional. I studied Adam, thinking how it must be for him. He, well, and Brian, too, had

been thrust into a very unusual situation, at extremely young ages.

And now, he watched us all grow up, and want to begin doing our own things, and make mistakes, and take chances. It

was just like a dad. Only he was a lot younger than a dad would be, to all of our ages.

I got up suddenly, scooting my chair away from the table, and took the couple steps to him, leaning down to

wrap my arms around his neck.

7

I went out after I ate, saddling Petra, and then I went to run the barrels. It was while I was taking a break, after making

three turns around, when I saw the male burro. He was standing to the edge of our field, his head down eating grass.

I gave a shrill whistle, and he perked his ears up, looking at me.

I rode Petra over closer, but when I got within 100 feet or so from him, he turned and scuttled away into the

grass behind him. I pulled Petra to a halt, pondering. I wondered why he'd done that. He'd been seeming to be tame,

lately, and hadn't seemed to mind at all when we were all around, helping the Jenny during her birth.

I whistled again, but all I could catch a glimpse of was his little brown behind. I wondered how he kept getting in and out of

our pastures. We'd ridden over them, checking, and hadn't found any holes.

"Dang it," I muttered. I was curious, and concerned, about the Jenny, and seeing if she had recovered from the birth.

I turned Petra back towards the house, wishing I could follow the Jack, but thinking better of it.

Back at the corral, there was commotion. Adam was holding onto a half-grown steer, while Evan tried to doctor one of its eyes.

Adam was obviously having to use all his muscles to hang on.

Brian came up from behind, and stepped in, to help control the steer, who was thrashing around.

"Hurry up, will you?" Brian told Evan, sounding irritated.

"I'm tryin' to," Evan said, sounding irritated in return.

I sat there on Petra, watching over the corral fence. When they released the steer, he ran back around the corral, flopping like

he was at a rodeo and trying to scrape a cowboy off his back.

"What's the matter with his eye?" I asked, from where I sat. "Pinkeye?"

"We can hope so," Brian said, sounding grim.

Since no rancher wants an outbreak of pink eye amongst their cattle, I found that a really strange thing for Brian to say.

"Why?" I asked.

Adam pulled off his leather gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. "Pinkeye's better than Rhino," he said.

Rhino. The very word is enough to strike anxiety into every rancher. It's an infectious respiratory disease in cattle.

"You don't really think it's that, do you?" I asked.

My answer was a big sigh from Adam, and a curt, "We'd best be finding out," from Brian.

They began talking, the three of them, and I listened to the conversation, discerning that Evan had herded the steer into the

corral early, when he noticed the eye.

They were talking, preparing to set out amongst the herd in the pasture, seeing if there were any other cattle that

were appearing to be sick, or have eye problems.

Brian gave a shrill whistle, when he saw Guthrie coming down the porch steps at the house. He motioned for Guthrie to

come over to where they stood.

"We need to mow those weeds down," Adam was saying. "Could be something as simple as weed seeds in his eye."

"His breathing, though," Evan pointed out. "There's somethin' off."

"Yeah," Adam agreed, looking discouraged.

As Guthrie loped up to join the group, he said, "What's up?"

"Get ready to ride out with Evan," Brian told him, explaining briefly about the steer, and what problems to look for in the herd.

Guthrie nodded, and went off to saddle his horse.

I was still sitting there, atop Petra, and I said, "What do you want me to do?"

They looked at me, as if they'd forgotten I was still there. Distracted. Tense.

"Ride out with everybody," Adam told me. "Take notes on the ear tags if you see anything, and jot it down. We'll have to

separate them."

I said okay, and he looked to Brian. "I'll go call the vet."

For a moment I felt a tug at my heart. It was so different to hear him say that, and to know that it wasn't Doc G that he was

talking about.

"What about the bull?" Evan asked. "Want him in the other pasture, by himself?"

"Probably better," Brian said, and Adam nodded in agreement.

"Want me to help you?" I asked Evan.

"No," Brian said, at the exact same moment that Evan replied, "I'll take care of the bull, Harlie."

"Go on into the house and get the notebook," Adam told me.

"Okay," I said, and just as I was nudging Petra into motion with my heels, I heard Brian say something about

the cause of Rhino virus, if it was that.

I pulled Petra to a stop again, turning in the saddle to listen.

He was asking Evan if the Jenny had seemed ill, besides the obvious effects of a difficult birth.

I felt suddenly so frustrated. Why automatically blame the burros?

Evan was answering, something about her breathing and all of that.

"That hard breathing was because she was in labor," I protested.

The three of them stopped talking to look at me, with varying degrees of emotion. Adam looked irritated, Evan, resigned to my

protests, and Brian, well, Brian raised an eyebrow at me and said, "Get goin'."

I bit back my next comment, and rode over to the hitching post, sliding down off Petra's back, and jogging to the

house to root thru the stuff on Crane's desk, looking for the notebook. The one that has the information in it about

the numbers of the ear tags, and what vaccinations were given on what dates.

Hannah came from the kitchen, a dishtowel in her hand, and Isaac on her hip.

"What are you looking for?" she asked me.

I told her, and explained what was going on. She immediately looked pensive. Concerned.

"Uh oh," she said.

She set Isaac on the floor, handed him a toy, and began helping me look for the notebook.

We found it under a stack of other papers, and I grabbed it, and a pen, preparing to head back outside.

"Did you eat breakfast?" Hannah asked me.

"I ate early, with Adam."

"Okay."

I suddenly realized that I hadn't seen Crane or Ford. I asked Hannah, and she said that they'd gone over to Kenny's parents,

to help his father with the chores.

I ran back outside, and mounted Petra again. Guthrie and Evan were already out in the pasture, I could see, and Adam was walking

towards the house. Going inside, I figured, to call the vet.

Brian was saddling his own horse, by the corral, keeping a covert eye on the steer, who was now just standing, not moving around much.

"I found the notebook," I told him, pulling Petra up beside him.

"Alright. Head on out."

I paused, studying him. "The Jack isn't sick, Brian. And the Jenny, she was just having a hard time, delivering the baby."

I shouldn't have used that moment to try to make a point. They were all on edge, worried about the cattle.

Brian stopped tightening the cinch on his saddle, and looked at me. "Harlie, this is not the time to promote your

crusade for those burros. The cattle are what's important. Without them, there is no us. And no ranch. Got it?"

His voice had been terse, curt, very stern. His eyes were sparkling with temper.

Before I could formulate a response, he snapped, "Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Bri. I hear you," I said.

"Then get to the job you were given. And, I don't want to hear any more about the burros."

I knew I shouldn't have used that time to defend the Jack and the Jenny, but, geez. I didn't see why he had to

be so-well, so darn prickly about it.

"Okay," I said, and then added, low, "I was just pointing something out."

If Brian had been vastly irritated a moment earlier, he was now long past that. He got calmer, though, which is

a sign of greater temper in him.

He stopped what he was doing, and stepped over to Petra, taking the side of her bridle in his hand, and looking

up at me.

"Alright," he said. "You pointed it out. I heard you. And I told you to knock it off. Can you do that now, or do I need to

pull you down from there, and explain it in a different way?"

Now, I'd done it. I had a little trouble swallowing there, for a moment or so.

"You don't need to do that," I managed.

"Alright," he said, and gave my lower leg a light pat. "Get in there and help the boys."

7


	75. Differing

It took the rest of the morning, and even well into the lunch time hour, to check the cattle, looking for signs of eye problems,

and all of that. I stayed close to Evan, taking notes. Brian was out there, too, along with Guthrie.

There were several cows with obvious issues, and after we'd ridden over the entire herd, those were the ones we separated,

putting them in the pasture to the side. The grass there was tall. There's no ready supply of water there, so I knew that would

have to be figured out.

It was shaping up to look like a long day ahead.

All in all, we herded about twelve cattle into the side pasture. It wasn't easy, cutting them separate from the rest of the herd. When I was

supposed to be guarding the open gate, to keep those that were in, in, and to not let any past that one of the guys didn't say to, a couple did slip by. It was hard to stop that.

Still smarting from my go-around with Brian, I was kicking myself, hoping that, in the midst of the moods going on, that

I wouldn't get told off about that, as well. I should have known better. That was an 'honest' mistake. Not like my talking back to

him earlier had been.

When they'd run the cattle separate, Guthrie hopped off his horse to close the gate. The five of us sat there for a few minutes, with

everybody just seeming to gather their thoughts and energy for a bit.

Guthrie remounted, and the five horses sniffed noses, and began nibbling at grass.

"What do you think?" Adam asked, running his arm across his forehead. "Did we get 'em all?"

"Pretty sure we did," Evan said. "I'll take another look in a minute."

"After lunch," Adam told him.

I decided I'd best speak up. Only Guthrie had seen the extra three or so head that had slipped past me.

"A couple got past me," I said, and waited, wondering if I'd get hollered at. Like I said, though, I should have known

better.

"Which ones?" Adam asked me. "Do you know?"

I turned to look over the cows. "It was number 23, I think. And a tannish one, that's one of the younger ones."

"Alright," Adam said, and looked to the house, where we could see Hannah waving.

Ivy's truck was parked near the barn, too.

"Let's see if Ivy wants some lunch, before we start up again," Adam said, and we all rode up, dismounting and tying the horses to

the corral fence.

As we walked up, Evan and Guthrie headed on inside. I, meanwhile, went to greet Ivy, along with Brian and Adam, as she

was pulling down the tail gate on her truck, and sorting thru supplies.

"Not a great day, huh?" she greeted us.

"We've had better," Adam said.

"What are you thinking?" Ivy asked.

They talked for a few minutes, about what they thought might be wrong, and then Adam told her they were going in, for a very short meal, and break.

"Come on inside," he told her. "You're welcome to eat with us."

"I already ate, thank you, Adam," she answered. "I'll get some supplies ready, and then I'll come in for a cold drink."

She turned to me, and smiled. "Hullo, Harlie. How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Busy," she said.

"Alright," Adam said. "We'll see you in a few, then." He nodded at me. "Come on, Harlie."

I followed along behind him and Brian, as we headed towards the house.

"I'm sorry," I said, to the both of them. "About the ones that got past me."

Adam turned to give me a look. "It's not a big thing," he said.

"Nope," Brian said, in agreement. "It happens."

We were at the front door, and Brian was holding it open, as Adam went on in.

I thought Brian was going to say something else to me, then, but he didn't, only waited for me to pass in front of him. Inside, the lunch

table conversation consisted of the cattle, naturally enough, and what various opinions were. Crane and Ford arrived back home, as

we had begun eating. And then there was conversation about Kenny's parents, and how his dad was feeling.

Crane said, in a quiet way, that Kenny had gone to a 'boy's ranch' type of place, as opposed to a detention center.

I wondered just what that was, exactly, and if it was similar to a detention center.

I could tell that Guthrie wanted to know, too, and ask questions. But, he didn't, right then. Lunch was a hurried thing, though, no dallying

around. Hannah stayed in the house, with Isaac, but when we went back out, Clare came along, and so did Kristin.

While Ivy began working, looking at the steer in the corral first, Evan stayed there, too, as I did. The rest of the group

went out to the pasture to recheck and see if there were any more cattle, with symptoms. After that, they moved the two out that

had slipped past me. That took some real cowboying on Guthrie and Ford's part.

Then it was time to move the ones from the side pasture to the corral, so that they would be easier to examine.

It was a long, long afternoon. Anxiety was running high, awaiting Ivy's opinion.

We had to put the cattle, one by one, into the cattle shute, so she could get a close up look. The cattle, of course, resented this,

and there was a lot of kicking and banging against the sides of the steel chute.

At one point, I didn't move my hand quickly enough, and it was caught between a steer and the side of the chute. As soon as I was

able to, I withdrew, going to the yard hydrant, and letting cold water run out over it. I moved my fingers cautiously. It seemed as though

it wasn't broken. At least it didn't feel like it did last spring when I'd broken it, chasing down a calf.

Everything was in such a muddle, so much noise, and activity, that nobody appeared to notice my grimace of pain as it happened, or

my escape to the cold water hydrant. I rejoined as quickly as I could.

After the first few head of cattle, Ivy said she would continue to draw blood samples, but that she didn't think it was rhino

virus. For that, at least, I felt relieved. That was, until Brian asked her what she did think it was, and she said, sounding regretful,

"I'm not sure. It's strange. Some seem to be ill, and others just have eye irritation. I'll try to rush the blood samples thru, so

you have some answers."

When we were finished, and leaving those cattle in the corral, everybody seemed to be dragging, both in body, and in spirit.

It was nearly supper time, and the daily chores still hadn't been done. Well, not all of them, anyway.

Ivy was invited to stay for supper, but declined, saying that she had to make another call. I found a chance to have a moment

alone with her, after my brothers had all thanked her, and shuffled off.

I helped her gather and tidy things, to put back into her truck.

"How's your dog?" I asked her.

"Oh, he's as ornery as ever," she said, with a laugh.

As she was slamming her tail gate shut, I said, "Could a burro have caused our cows to get sick?"

Ivy gave me a quick glance. "A wild burro?"

At my nod, she said, "Well, it's possible. Was there a wild burro near?"

I explained to her how it had happened with the two burros, and the loss of the baby Jack. Then she asked how long they'd been

around, and exposed to the cattle and our horses.

"I don't know, Harlie," she said. "It's possible. But it's really hard to say. Do the burros seem as though they're ill?"

"No. At least the Jack doesn't. The Jenny was weak and all. But, that's due to the labor and delivery, don't you think?"

She gave me a sad half-smile. "I don't know. I wish I did. I'd have to take a look at them to be able to say."

"Okay," I said, with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"It's not your fault," I said. I hadn't meant to make her feel badly.

"I know. But, from one animal lover to another, I totally understand," she said.

She paused, seeming to be thinking. "Do you know where they are right now?" she asked.

"I saw the Jack this morning, early. But, I'm not sure, exactly." I felt a burst of hope at her question. "Why?"

"Can you get close to them?"

"I was able to get fairly close to the Jack. Not today, but before. And the Jenny let Evan touch her, and all."

"Hmm," she said, looking thoughtful.

My brothers were heading into the house, via the back door. Brian stopped and called out a goodbye, and a thank you to

Ivy. She raised her hand to him in greeting.

"How about if I come over sometime tomorrow, and we take a scout out for them?" she offered.

I could hardly believe it. "Really?" I asked.

"Sure. We can try, at least," she said.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot," I said gratefully.

"No problem. I think I can make it about nine or so in the morning, barring any emergencies."

"Okay," I agreed happily.

"Should you run it past Adam first?" she asked me then. "Or Brian?"

"I probably should," I said, with regret.

Ivy laughed. "Don't look so defeated. They're good fellas, right?"

"Sure. But, they're not especially fond of the burros. I mean, they plain out and out don't like them. And, Brian already thinks

that they're the ones that made the cattle sick."

"He thinks that? Are you sure?" she asked.

"Well, I'm not sure he totally thinks that," I amended. "But-I do know he doesn't like them. Neither does Adam."

"Well, do you want to run and ask them now? Or you can call me at home tonight, and let me know if they said for me

to head on over."

I considered. And I made a split decision. Tired, and worried though they were at this point, it might be better to ask now, than as to

wait for the perfect opportunity later in the evening. The moods might not improve.

"I'll go now," I said. I began to run towards the house, and then looked back at her, feeling foolish. "Do you want to come in?" I invited.

"No. I'll wait here," she said. "I'll start my air conditioning."

As she got into the cab of her truck, I went on, hurrying to the back door. The kitchen was full. There were fans going, and

everybody was sitting in their places at the table, pouring sweet tea, and passing platters of hamburgers around.

"Sit down, Harlie, and eat," Hannah said, looking up at me.

"Okay," I said, but still standing, I went on, looking at Adam, "Ivy says she can come over in the morning, and we can

go look for the burros. She says she'll try to take a look at them, and see if they're sick, or anything."

To say that I'd surprised most of them was evident by their expressions.

"You shouldn't have asked her to do that, Harlie," Adam said.

"I didn't!" I protested. "She offered! Honest, Adam!"

"The subject just popped up, huh?" he said then.

Well, I didn't answer that. I subsided, giving him a pleading look. "Is it alright that I go with her?" I persisted.

Adam exchanged a look with Brian. They did that 'talking without words' thing that they do, and then Adam said, "We'll

think about it."

"She's waiting-" I protested.

"She's still here?" Brian asked me, and when I nodded, they exchanged another look.

"Good grief, Harlie," Adam said, sounding irritated. He got up, going thru to the living room. Brian gave me a quick glance, and

then he got up, as well. I was sort of unsure, and I let my eyes drift round the table. Clare looked sympathetic, and so did

Evan, surprisingly. I looked toward Crane, and tried to send an unspoken quick message to him.

He stood up, scooting up his chair. "Come on," he said, quietly, and went thru to the living room. I followed him, feeling

grateful.

Adam and Brian were standing out on the front porch, and Ivy stood there, as well. When I came out after Crane, I heard

Ivy saying that she didn't mind coming, and trying to locate the burros.

"I'd like to see them, actually," she said. "I've never seen burros or horses that weren't domesticated."

"If you're sure, then," Adam was saying, still looking uncertain.

"Absolutely," Ivy said. "I just wanted Harlie to check with you first, to see that it was alright."

Adam nodded, and Crane said, "I'll go along with you," to Ivy. "It's a good idea to carry a gun up there about right now."

In appreciation, I squeezed Crane's arm.

As Ivy said her goodbyes, and went to get into her truck, the four of us stood there, on the porch. I felt really on edge, because

Adam was giving me a look that suggested he was disappointed, or something. And Brian looked, well, just plain grim.

"I didn't ask her to hunt them up," I protested again, thinking to forestall what they were thinking. "I just asked her if she thought the burros could bring in illnesses, and then she offered to go look for them."

"Those burros are all you think about lately," Adam said.

Well, I didn't think that was fair! Not at all. Of course, I was interested in them, but I wasn't obsessed, or anything.

"That's not so, Adam," I protested. I tried to say it respectfully, and all. I knew they were feeling discouraged and worried about

the cattle, but it just seemed as though they were picking on me.

"Isn't it a good thing?" I went on. "If Ivy can tell that they're not sick, then that will set your minds at ease."

"How so?" Adam demanded. He was standing, his hands on his hips.

"Because-" I said, "Brian thinks they made the cattle sick-"

"What?" Brian demanded, looking startled.

"You were asking Evan if the Jenny was sick- I began.

"It's a definite possibility," Brian said, and then he shook his head, and went inside, letting the screen door

slam behind him.

"Whatever Ivy decides about the burros, our cattle are still gonna be sick," Adam said. "Aren't they?" he asked me pointedly.

"Yes," I admitted.

He regarded me intensely for a moment, and then he said, "It's time to eat," and he went in, too.

I stepped out a bit from Crane's side. "Good grief," I muttered.

"I don't see why they have to be like this about it-" I began.

"Just settle down," Crane said, in his calm manner.

"Well, Brian thinks it's all the burro's fault, and now Adam acts as though I'm committing a crime-" I went on.

"It's fine," Crane said. "Everybody's just on edge."

I sighed heavily, and Crane stepped over, pulling the screen door open. "Time to eat," he said, echoing Adam's words.

"I can't eat now," I complained. "My stomach's all churned up."

"You know you have to eat. Now come on."

So, I went in, as he held the door open.

I slid into my seat at the table, and Crane sat down to finish his already-begun meal. Guthrie was still seated, as was Kristin, and

he was eating a piece of pie.

Adam was sitting in his chair, sipping at his coffee, while Hannah bustled around. Brian, I was glad to see, had disappeared.

I was still eating, as was Crane, when we heard a knocking at the front door.

"What now?" Adam said, in an exasperated sort of way. A moment or so later, and we could hear

voices, and then Kristin's mother was there, in the doorway to the kitchen, with Ford behind her.

"Hello," Hannah said, scooting her chair back, and standing up to greet her, as did Adam, as well.

"Hello," Kristin's mother answered.

I heard Kristin sigh, but I don't think anyone else did. She got up, too, going to stand near her mother.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Hannah was asking. "Or some sweet tea?"

"Some tea would be nice," Linda answered. "If it's not too much trouble."

For some reason, whenever I see Kristin's mom, I'm think of her as sort of washed-out looking. She

was still attractive, and was probably really so in younger, or better times in her life. But, she always

seems hesitant, as if she thinks that she's bothering someone. I realized then that Kristin had been

just like that, when we first became friends. Nearly a year around our family had definitely brought

her out of her shell.

"It's no trouble," Hannah was saying. "We always have a pitcher or even two on reserve around here."

"Let's go into the other room," Hannah said then, and followed Linda, walking towards the living room.

Adam flicked a glance towards Guthrie and I, and then to Kristin.

"Why don't you get your mama a glass of tea?" he told Kristin, and at her nod, he followed Hannah.

Guthrie got up, taking his plate to the sink, and went to lean against the cabinet, as Kristin began

pouring a glass of tea from the pitcher on the table.

"I don't know what she's here for," Kristin said, biting at her lower lip.

"It's fine that she's here," Crane said. He'd finished eating, as well, and pushed his plate back.

"She should have just called, if she wanted me to come home or something-" Kristin began, in

complaint.

"Hey," Crane said, and Kristin paused, looking at him in question.

"Don't treat your mom badly," he said.

"I'm not," Kristin protested. "I mean, I don't. I just-" she let her words trail off. "I just want to stay here."

"I know," he said. "But, she might need you worse than what you want, Kris-10."

Kristin looked as though she was embarrassed, and ducked her head a little.

"Okay," she said.

Crane gave her a kind half-smile, and Kristin went out of the kitchen, carrying the glass of tea.

Guthrie muttered an oath, and went out the screen door. I knew he wasn't happy that Kristin

most likely had to go home again.

"This is just a great, great day," I said then, in heavy sarcasm. I dropped my fork to my plate.

Crane got to his feet then, and began gathering up the plates, stacking them.

"Finish your supper," he told me.

"I am finished."

"No, you're not," Crane said.

I gave him a rebellious look, and wished I could kick a chair, or something like that.

"I should know if I'm hungry or not," I pointed out.

"You have to eat, even when you don't feel hungry," he said. "You know that."

And, I did. Especially since I'd such a rough evening just a night or two ago, with my blood sugar. But, grrr.

"Great," I complained. "I'll eat. Then I'll probably throw up. It'll be a great ending to this day."

Crane stopped walking, turning to look at me, his hands still full of the plates.

I sensed the change in his demeanor immediately.

"Okay," he said, quietly. "Scrape your plate, then."

I sat there, with him looking at me that way, and felt immediately ashamed of myself.

It seemed as though he was going to hold my gaze forever. When he finally did turn, going to the

sink, and beginning to run hot water into the sink, I sat still for a moment or so, feeling shook.

Without saying anything more, I picked up my fork again, and finished my vegetables, and my piece of

meatloaf, all while staring at Crane's back as he stood at the sink, washing dishes.

I got up then, going to stack my now-empty plate on the counter with the others that were left still

to be washed.

Then I got a dishtowel from the drawer, and began to rinse the dishes, and then dry them.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, after a few minutes. "For being snarky."

Crane gave me a side-glance. He nodded a bit. "Okay."

Kristin appeared at the open kitchen doorway. "I'm going home with my mom," she said, stepping

over closer to us.

Crane paused, turning to lean against the counter. "That's good," he said, sounding approving.

Kristin nodded, in understanding, and said, "I'll see you later, Harlie."

"Okay. Call when you can," I told her. And then, I pointed to the back door. "Guthrie's outside somewhere."

"I'll go find him," she said. She looked up at Crane. "Bye, Crane."

"Bye," he told her, with a smile.

When she'd gone, Crane turned back to the task of washing dishes.

"She thinks you're something really special," I confided.

"I think a lot of her, too,."

We were interrupted then, by Hannah coming back into the kitchen, and Ford, carrying the baby.

"Thanks, you two," Hannah said. "For cleaning up. You weren't on the list, were you?" she asked.

"No problem," Crane said.

"Yeah, thanks," Ford echoed, going to peer at the dishwashing chart on the refrigerator. "I was on

for tonight." He turned to grin at us. "Thanks a whole lot."

7


	76. Ivy

After we'd finished the dishes, and cleaning up the kitchen, Crane hung the dish cloth over the faucet, and switched off the light

over the sink.

"Whew," he said.

"What are you gonna do now?" I asked him.

"Put my feet up, and have a beer." He paused, looking at me. "Why?"

"I just wondered. I think I'll go out and talk to Guthrie."

"Okay."

"Can we take your camera tomorrow?" I asked. "When we go with Ivy?"

"We can," he said, with a nod. "You might check the film, though. I don't know how many shots are left on that roll."

"Okay. I will."

I went outside then, pausing at the back door to look around. I saw no glimpse of Guthrie, though. Remembering what Daniel had

said to me about how I usually always went to the same places when I wanted to be alone, I realized that the same could be said of

Guthrie. Probably not the barn loft, or the treehouse. He was pretty grown up for those places now. But, the creek maybe. Or, I hesitated,

thinking. Maybe not that far, even. Loving his pickup as he does, he might be tinkering around under the hood of it. Guthrie seemed to

spend an inordinate amount of time doing that.

I went around towards the front, and, sure enough, there in front of the barn, Guthrie was leaning, peering into the

engine of his pickup.

I thought of something, and went back around to the kitchen door, grabbing a couple of Cokes from the carton by the stove. I stuck the

bottle opener in my pocket and went back out again. Walking over to where he stood, I paused, the bottles in my hands.

"Hey," I said, in greeting.

"Hey."

"Want a Coke?" I offered.

"Sure," he said, pausing to look up at me, wrench in hand. There was a steak of grease, or oil or something across one of his

cheeks.

I took the opener and popped the cap off a bottle, and handed it to him. "It's not cold," I said.

"That's okay." He took a long swallow. "Still good."

"Coke's best cold, and coffee's best hot," I said.

Guthrie leveled a look at me, and raised his eyebrows, with a look that suggested I was slightly crazy.

"I'm just saying," I told him, mildly.

He shook his head, and took another drink.

"You've got something-" I reached out to swipe at his cheek. "Right there."

Guthrie dodged back. "Hey," he protested.

He took another long drink, finishing off the bottle of Coke.

"Here," he said, and held out the empty bottle to me.

I took it, and he turned his attention back to the motor.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked, stepping closer and peering into it, too.

"You wouldn't understand even if I told you," he said.

Now it was my turn to protest. "Hey," I said.

"Truth," he said. "To you, it's the thing-a-ma-jig, and the do-hopper."

"Okay, okay," I said.

After a few moments of quiet, I said, "Kristin didn't want to go home."

"Do you blame her?" Guthrie asked curtly. And then, just as quickly, he said, "Sorry," and sighed, looking up at me.

"At least Frank's not there," I offered.

"They won't keep him in jail long."

"Why not?" I asked, indignant.

"I mean, they won't keep him long right now. He'll get out on bail."

"Oh. Are you surprised that he was involved?" I asked.

"Sort of. I would have thought he was too lazy to do anything that took that much effort," Guthrie said, with disgust.

"Are you still thinking to go see Kenny?" I asked him then.

"I'm pretty sure I will."

"It might be weird. Seeing him in a place like that, I mean."

"I know," Guthrie said. And then, "Watch out."

I stepped back, and he slammed the hood of the truck down.

We stood there, quiet for a few moments, just looking at one another.

"Want to come with Ivy and Crane and I tomorrow?" I offered. "To look for the burros?"

"I don't know. Maybe. If my chores are done."

"Oh. Speaking of chores, I haven't fed the goats yet," I said.

Guthrie tagged along with me, as I went to gather the feed, and refill the water for Elwood P. Dowd and his two

wives. It was while we were doing that, that Guthrie said he thought one of the females, Pearl, was bred. I saw then, signs

that I should have seen before, confirming her pregnancy. I guess I've just been thinking about other things.

"Yea!" I said, in excitement.

"Only you would get so excited about a dumb baby goat," Guthrie said, but he grinned at me to soften his words.

We finished with the goats, and then went to sit in the back yard. Guthrie made himself comfortable in the hammock, and

I sat on the back steps.

We sat outside that way, until the stars were out.

7

It was when Guthrie and I went inside, and he'd gone up to take a shower, though complaining that he knew there

would be no hot water left at all. I'd washed up at the kitchen sink, and done my injection. Then I made some

microwave popcorn, and cut up a couple of apples. Thinking that I'd ask Guthrie if he wanted to try to find a movie on

television to watch, I was searching for a dessert, to satisfy Guthrie's sweet tooth.

I was standing on a chair, rooting thru the upper cabinets. Sometimes, you could find a Hostess snack box up there. But, only

sometimes. This was one of the times that it seemed they'd been discovered, and devoured already.

There was a noise behind me, and I turned to see Brian coming in from the living room.

I felt sort of funny, awkward. Remembering our conversation, or rather the lecture, that he'd given me earlier.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," he answered. He went to the cabinet and pulled down a glass, going to the refrigerator, and pulling out

the pitcher of sweet tea, and pouring it.

"I was looking for some cupcakes or Ho Hos, or something," I said, in conversation.

"Not what you ought to be eating, is it?"

"For Guthrie," I said. "Not me."

"Oh."

"It looks like they're all gone, though," I said, and hopped down from my perch on the chair.

"No big surprise with that."

"No," I said, in agreement. And then I added, "Pearl's pregnant."

"Is she? Well, that's good," he said.

There was quiet between us, and I felt even more awkward.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked him.

There was a long, long quiet. At least, it seemed so to me. Brian regarded me unwaveringly the whole time. I tried

not to look away.

"I'm not mad," he said finally.

I didn't feel all that relieved. There was something in his tone.

I should have left it at that. But, I didn't want to go to bed with things 'off' between Brian and I.

"I didn't ask Ivy to go look for the burros," I maintained.

"So you said."

"You don't believe me?" I asked, ready to be hurt and insulted.

"If I didn't believe you, I'd say so," Brian said.

Bat shit. Now, I'd done it again. Said the wrong thing.

"Okay," I said, quietly, looking at him tremulously.

"Hopefully, she'll find somethin' out."

"Yeah." I thought a moment. I was sure, just positive, that the burros weren't what had caused the illness amongst our

cattle.

Again, there was silence. I searched Brian's face, wishing we could 'meet in the middle'. I knew that I'd sleep better if we

did.

"Bri-" I began.

"Harlie, let's just wait and see what Ivy finds out from the blood work she took today. Alright?"

"Okay. But-"

"Harlie," he said, in a stronger tone, and I paused, getting quiet.

"I'm tired, and you're persistent, and this conversation won't end well. So, let's just wait it out," Brian said firmly.

I nodded then. And was quiet. I mean, what else could I say or do right then? And, I knew Brian was right. We would

end up in a back-and-forth thing, where he got mad, and I got mouthy, and then I would be in trouble.

He refilled his tea glass, and I held out the bowl of popcorn. "Want some?" I offered.

"No, thanks. I'm headin' up to bed. You should, too."

"I was going to hang out with Guthrie a while longer," I said.

"Alright. Don't stay up too late," he cautioned, and headed up the back stairs, carrying the glass. "Goodnight."

"Night, Bri."

7

I set my small alarm clock for early the next morning. I got dressed and went downstairs the back way. I was intent on

eating, and then doing my chores, checking on the expectant goat, and being ready when Ivy arrived.

I was down early, but Ford and Evan were already in the kitchen. Ford was sitting at the table, reading one of the thickest

books I'd ever seen, while drinking orange juice. Evan was at the stove, turning on the burner, and making scrambled eggs.

"Morning," I said, briefly, going to pour a cup of coffee.

They both returned my greeting, and Evan said, "I'll have some eggs ready in a couple of minutes."

"Okay. What are you guys doing up so early?" I asked.

"Got stuff to catch up on," Evan said, and Ford nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," Ford said.

I sat my cup of steaming coffee at my place at the table, and went to pull down plates from the cabinet. I laid them around the

table, one at each chair, and then took mine over to the stove, waiting, until Evan scooped some eggs from the skillet onto the plate.

I sat down, and began eating the eggs, and then took a banana from the fruit bowl, peeling it and laying it on my plate as well.

I told them about Pearl being pregnant, and Evan said, "Oh, boy," in a begrudging sort of way.

"What's wrong with that?" I asked him.

He just shook his head, and I went on, "The goats do their share around here, you know."

When everybody else began to make their way to the kitchen, Evan had gone thru three dozen eggs, making enough

to heap a platter.

Since I was already nearly finished, I prepared to stand up, ready to take my plate to the sink, and get outside.

"We need to start thinking about shopping for some school clothes," Hannah was telling me.

I paused, looking at her. With everything going on lately, school was the furthest thing from my mind.

"We've got time," I said.

"Not that much time. It'll be here before you know it," Hannah said.

I was glad when she dropped the subject, and I could get outside. I did my morning chores, spending extra time

in the goat yard, watching Pearl.

By the time Ivy pulled up, I was caught up, and walked over to meet her as she got out.

"Morning, Harlie," she said.

"Morning."

I told her I would go try to find Crane, and invited her to come inside. We went up the front steps, and into

the living room, where Captain Jack gave a loud squawking, and hollered, "Pass the bread!"

Ivy jumped, startled.

"Oh, my goodness," she said.

I tried not to smile. "That's Captain Jack," I said, in introduction.

"He's a Macaw, isn't he?"

"Uh huh." We both paused near to the cage. "He was Doc G's."

"Oh," Ivy said, and looked to me. "And, now he's yours?"

"Yeah. Well, he's mostly Ford's now. Ford keeps him at college during the school year."

"He's just beautiful," she said, continuing to study Captain Jack.

"I'll get Hannah," I told her, and went to the kitchen, which was empty. I headed up the back stairs, finding

Hannah and Clare in the midst of a mountain of baby clothes, sorting, and talking about what was too small for Isaac now.

"Ivy's here," I said breathlessly.

"Oh," Hannah said. "Well, I'll go down and say hi."

"Do you know where Crane is?" I asked.

"No idea at all," she said, and Clare shook her head.

"Me, either."

"Okay," I said, and ran back down the front stairs. "I'll go find Crane," I told Ivy.

I didn't have to search long. Crane was walking up from behind the barn, with Adam, so I stayed where I was,

catching my breath.

"Ivy ready?" Crane greeted me.

"Uh huh."

"Did you get the camera?" he reminded me.

"I'll do it now."

While they all said hello, and stood talking, I went to get the camera from Crane's bedroom. Crane's a naturally tidy sort

of person, so the room was neat. And Daniel's side of the room, in use only when he's home, was all neat, as well.

In the wooden wardrobe, where Crane keeps the Nikon camera, there were a stack of papers. I gave them just the

briefest of glances. When I saw what they were about, I paused, though, leaning to read the top.

They were about preservation and protection of the Mustangs, and there were stacks of them. I lifted the corner, flipping

thru the stack. There were all sorts of those pie-charts, and statistics, and financial things about the wild horses that I didn't really

understand. I closed the wardrobe door again, thinking.

I didn't understand everything on those sheets of paper. But, I did understand that Crane had gone to the trouble of

gathering them, and was more than likely reading, and studying them. Which meant he was more than just merely "interested"

in the herds, and what was happening to them.

7

I went back down with the camera, taking the bag with extra film in it, as well.

I went to grab a ball cap, pulling it down and my ponytail thru the back. After that, I waited while the four of them

finished their conversation in the living room.

Adam still seemed to have a reservation, of sorts, about the whole thing. Going to look for the burros, I mean.

It wasn't that he said anything against it. He didn't. It was more something that I sensed in him.

It was while he was talking to Ivy, that Hannah took the moment to say to me, very quietly, "I hope you

find them today."

I searched her face. "Me, too."

"Maybe it will settle some things," she said then.

I puzzled over what she meant by that, exactly. I took a quick glance to where Adam was, to see if he was listening. He

wasn't.

"Settle what?" I asked Hannah. "You mean, about whether they're sick?"

"Well, yes, that's part of it."

I realized that I'd never, since we'd seen the Mustangs being herded by the men, and the helicopters, had a real

conversation with just Hannah about it all.

"It's terrible what they're doing to the Mustangs, Hannah," I said. "They chase them. And sometimes they get close

enough with the helicopters to actually hit them."

"Of course it's terrible," she agreed.

Okay. Her comment seemed sort of general to me. Not specific.

"Let's go, Harlie," Crane was saying. I flicked a glance at Hannah, still wondering. She gave me a half-smile.

"Good luck," she said.

There was no time to puzzle further. Ivy volunteered to drive her truck up into the pastures, but Crane said the Jeep

would be a better option. So they got into the front, and I was in the back seat, as we set out.

The wind was whipping thru, so I couldn't catch every word between Crane and Ivy. I do know that they discussed

the blood work that she'd done on the cattle the day before.

The whole time we were driving, I was watching for the burros. I pointed out to Crane where I'd seen him at the day before,

and then we drove on to where the Jenny had given birth. No sign of them. We toured the edges of the pastures,

driving for nearly an hour, and still no luck.

I was feeling crushed with disappointment. Downright discouraged. Crane asked Ivy if she wanted to

drive on further, to try to see the herd. Or what was left of the herd.

"I would love that," Ivy said. "Do you have the time?"

"I have time." Crane went on to tell her that there was no guarantee we would see any of the Mustangs.

Once at the stopping point, we three got out, loaded with water canteens, and me with some snacks in a backpack

for emergencies. Crane had the rifle strapped across his back, and I carried the Nikon, with a fresh roll of film.

As we walked, they talked. Crane was asking her how she felt her time in Murphys was going so far.

Crane is easy to talk to, and so I wasn't surprised that Ivy opened up to him, saying that she was finding

it a hard road with some of the ranchers in our area. Concerning how they seemed reluctant to accept her as

the vet.

"To be honest," Ivy said, "I'm not certain whether it's because I'm a female, and they don't think I can do

the job properly, or it's because I'm not Doc G."

At one point in time, her comment about measuring up to Doc G would have bothered me. But, I'd made my peace

with her, as far as stepping into his shoes. He would want all the folks in our area, including me, to support and accept her.

I was reminded at that moment, of the ranchers that had been standing around at the gas station in Angels Camp,

running down the Mustangs, and telling me I needed to hush up.

"Some of these ranchers around here have their thinking stuck in a century or so back," I tossed into the conversation.

Ivy laughed. "I have to say I agree with you."

"Doc G wouldn't like it," I went on. "He'd tell them all to pull their heads out of their backsides and appreciate

what you're doing."

Ivy stopped walking, turning to look at me, and bursting into more laughter. "I have to say, Harlie, you're

sure good for my self-esteem."

I smiled back at her. "Only stating the truth," I said.

"You're something else," Ivy said, and I saw admiration in her expression. "Isn't she, Crane?"

"A force of nature," Crane said, and smiled at both of us.

7


	77. Comfort reversed

We hiked all the way to the ridge, and Ivy asked lots of questions. About the area, and park regulations, and wildlife, and

all of that.

When we reached the top, we sat down to rest, drinking from our canteens, and continuing to talk about things.

I broke out my arsenal of snacks, offering a granola bar to both of them. Crane said no, but Ivy took one, peeling back

the wrapper.

They got into a conversation about the way the Mustangs and burros were being handled by the Bureau of Land Management. I

listened, filing away the information to ask Crane about later.

I thought then, too, of the opportunity when school began, of working for Ivy, in the program that Cindy had told me about.

I decided there was no harm in bringing it up. I mean, we were just sitting, and waiting to see if the Mustangs made an

appearance.

Ivy listened while I explained, and then she nodded, looking enthusiastic. "I'd be thrilled to have your help, Harlie. I can't

afford to pay a lot yet, but if you're alright with that, I'd love to give it a try."

I felt a burst of excitement, and for the first time, thought it might be alright when school began back up again.

7

We waited for forty-five minutes to an hour, but it didn't seem as though the Mustangs were going to show up.

When we all got to our feet, preparing to go, Ivy said, "Well, maybe next time," sounding regretful.

"Maybe they've gone somewhere different," I suggested. "The ones that are left, I mean. They know they aren't safe

here anymore."

"That's just heartbreaking," Ivy said.

We were about halfway back down the hillside, when Ivy said, "Look, there," pointing to a band of burros

grazing, though there was hardly any grass left. What there was, was brown, and close-cropped.

"Wow," I said, stunned. It was something, seeing that many of them together like that.

I immediately focused the camera, and started snapping some pictures.

"Can we get closer?" Ivy asked.

"We can try," Crane said.

So we did try. When we were within five hundred feet or so, the majority of the burros seemed to get

nervous at our presence, and skitter about. There must have been twenty or so of them.

So we paused, staying still.

We ended up sitting down, in the grass, watching them for a long time.

"No way to tell if your burro's here, right?" Ivy asked me.

I didn't think I could identify the male burro, from this distance. I mean, he was really marked pretty much the

same as a lot of the others, it seemed.

"Not without getting a lot closer," I said.

"I think we're as close as we're going to get," Crane said.

So, when we got up, once again, to hike back towards the Jeep, we didn't know anything more than we had

at the beginning of our foray.

"What a waste of time," I muttered, as we were climbing back into the Jeep.

"It wasn't, Harlie," Ivy denied. "I know we didn't find out anything about whether the burro you've been seeing is

sick, and I am sorry about that. But, I really enjoyed seeing the herd of them. It was an experience I never thought to

have."

I nodded, feeling a little bad for 'raining on her parade'.

"It's an experience that is going to get more and more rare, isn't it?" she asked, looking to Crane.

Crane was stowing the rifle in the back of the Jeep, and said, sounding regretful, "Yeah. That's right."

"I should have the blood samples back by tomorrow on your cattle," Ivy said, and Crane nodded.

"It will be a relief to know something," he said.

Once back at the house, Adam appeared from the barn to talk with Ivy, as she was preparing to leave.

"Keep me updated on that school project, Harlie," she told me, and then, to Adam, "I told Crane I should know

something by tomorrow about the blood work."

Adam nodded. "Thank you."

As she drove away, with a wave, down our long driveway, Adam said, "No luck today, huh?"

"No," Crane said. "We did see a herd of burros."

Adam nodded, not saying anything for a long moment.

"There's hardly any grass where they're grazing at," I said.

Immediately Adam looked concerned. "No?" he asked me.

"No."

He and Crane exchanged a look between them that I didn't quite understand.

"What?" I asked.

Adam seemed to hesitate, and then he said, "They might go looking. Foraging. If they can't find enough to eat."

I still wasn't getting it. I tilted my head at his in question.

"It means they might come down closer," Adam said. "To the ranches around here."

"Oh." I was still puzzled.

"That's not going to go over well with most folks."

Finally, it dawned. "You mean, because they'll eat what the ranchers need for their cattle?"

"Right."

"Oh," I said. I looked from him to Crane, and back again. "What can we do about it?"

"There's nothing that 'we' can do about it," Adam said, emphasizing the word 'we'. "Or more, specifically, there's

nothing that you can do about it."

I didn't understand how I'd walked right into a lecture.

"I didn't mean myself, particularly," I protested.

Adam leveled a knowing look at me. "Yes, you did," he denied.

"Well, if they're starving, isn't it better to be proactive about it?" I pointed out.

Adam sighed. "Harlie."

"What?" I asked, feeling as though I was being misunderstood.

"We'll discuss it later," he said then, with finality.

I wanted to argue, but I knew better. At least, I told myself, as we parted ways, to get back to our respective

chores, I knew better to argue at that particular moment in time.

7

When lunch was over, Hannah said she was going upstairs to lay down with Isaac. I told her I would fold

the laundry, since Clare had gone upstairs to study for her class she was taking twice a week.

While I was folding the laundry, at the kitchen table, I decided to make a batch of cookies. For two certain edgy older

brothers. So molasses cookies, and peanut butter cookies it was.

7

I was sitting outside awhile later, trying to catch a breeze after being in the hot kitchen. I was sipping at a glass of

lemonade, and rubbing Clarence's ears.

I was glad when Crane came up, and I went inside to get him a glass of the lemonade. Coming back onto the front porch,

I sat down beside him on the top step, handing him the glass.

"Thank you for going this morning," I told him.

"No problem. I wish we'd been able to find your furry friend."

I knew he was joking, but I decided to speak on. "That's how I think of him, Crane. As a friend."

He gave me a sideways look then. "I know."

"Why can't they understand, Crane?" I asked him. There was no need to identify the 'they' of which I spoke.

"If the burros have caused the problems with the cattle, then you can't expect a lovefest, Harlie. You know that. You're

not a little kid."

"I know that. I mean-well, what about earlier, when we were talking about how they might be hungry? I'm just

thinking that there has to be ways to help, that will make it easier on everybody and everything. The burros and the

ranchers, too."

"And there may well be," he said, in agreement.

Before I could get too excited by his comment, and the possibilities behind it, he crushed it by saying, "You need to learn the

meaning of 'opportune time', kiddo."

"Meaning not to badger Adam, or Brian, right?" I said. "Or shoot off my mouth?"

"That would be good."

"It's hard to be patient," I said.

"Patience is difficult," he agreed. "That's why it's called a virtue, peanut."

He nudged me in the ribs with his elbow.

"Okay," I said. with a smile. He drank his lemonade, and was saying he needed to get back to work.

"When I was getting the camera out of the wardrobe thing in your room, I saw all those papers," I told him.

At his raised eyebrow, I went on, "I wasn't snooping, Crane. Honestly."

"I believe you."

When he said no more, I pressed on. "Why do you have all that stuff? It looks really in depth. Intense."

"Trying to be better informed. That's all," he told me.

Now it was me, giving him a raised eyebrow type of look.

"That's all?" I said, doubtfully.

"Opportune time, kiddo," he said.

7

By the time Hannah came downstairs later, I had started making a casserole, with hamburger and tater tots and cheese.

"Thank you, sweetie," she told me, leaning over to look into the casserole dishes. "That looks as though it will be good."

"You're welcome. Do you think I should put the vegetables in it, or have them separate?"

"Whatever you want to do," she said, smiling at me. "It's your creation."

She saw the cookies setting about, on the platters and cooling racks.

"You have been busy," she said.

I didn't tell her that I hoped the cookies would put Brian and Adam into a better mood. It sounded silly now.

"It can't hurt," she said then, and I gave her a surprised glance.

She smiled again, and I knew she was aware of exactly what I'd been attempting to do with the two of them.

"I've been baking for them for so many years," I said. "Since I was eight or nine, I would always make their favorite

cookies-"

"I think it's sweet," she said.

Isaac was propelling himself around the kitchen in his walker, occasionally running up against Hannah or I's ankles.

At one point, I crouched in front of the walker, and said to him, "Hey, buddy, where did you get your license? You're not a

very good driver, you know that?"

Isaac reached out to tug at my hair, laughing with glee.

After that, we sat at the kitchen table, in front of the fans, drinking lemonade and looking at the Sears catalog.

Hannah was back on her topic of school clothes again.

She kept pointing out outfits, asking if I liked them.

A couple of them I said that I did like, but then added, "I really just need a couple pairs of new jeans, and maybe

a few shirts."

Hannah looked vaguely disappointed, but nodded. She knows I'm not really one of those 'fashioneesta' type of girls.

It was comfortable in the kitchen, just Hannah and I. We talked about other stuff after that. The case, and the fact

of Frank being a part of it. About Kristin, and how we wished her home life was better. About whether we thought that

Guthrie would maintain his feelings for Kristin.

It was a nice time. I realized that I'd missed it. Spending time one-on-one with Hannah. I found the

nerve to ask her if she thought she would have another baby anytime soon.

Her eyes were wide. "Well, I don't know if I will."

"But, if you could, would you want to?" I amended my question.

"If I knew that it would be a healthy baby, and it happened sometime soon, then yes, I would want to. Very much."

"That would be nice," I said, really quietly.

Hannah laughed a little. "Well, I'll admit to praying for it, now and then."

"Maybe you and Clare can go thru it at the same time," I said, thinking how cool that would be.

"I can't speak for Clare," Hannah said, laughing again.

7

When the guys all came trooping into the kitchen, ready for their supper, I already had the table set, and

Hannah began setting out the big salad that we'd prepared. I opened the oven, lifting out the two casserole dishes

filled with the meat and potatoes.

"There's a bowl of corn in the microwave," Hannah said. "Can you get it out, Ford?"

Ford obligingly got a hot pad, and lifted the large bowl of heated corn.

Hannah was quick, as always, to give me the credit for the supper.

"Harlie made it all," she said.

"That's nice, sugar," Adam said, to me. He looked tired, and wrung out. Worried.

"Including the cookies here?" Brian asked, as he paused beside the counter where the cookies were stacked onto platters.

"Including the cookies," Hannah said, when I was silent.

"Nice," Brian said, taking one of the peanut butter cookies, and biting into it. "Good. Real good," he said,

looking at me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I noticed, and so did Hannah, that Adam didn't eat much. He didn't complain or anything, but he rubbed his forehead a

couple of times. I figured he had a headache.

After supper was over, the dishwashing chart was read, and then everybody began to separate a bit.

I went thru to the living room, but only Ford and Evan were there. Guthrie was on the telephone, sitting on the

bottom stair. Hannah and Crane were still in the kitchen, as was Brian, since he had dish duty. I looked outside, thinking Adam

might be sitting on the front porch. He wasn't.

I asked Evan and Ford if they knew where he'd gone, and Ford said he thought back outside.

I went to get a cup of coffee, and a couple of the molasses cookies that I'd made, and then shook two Tylenol from

the bottle in the windowsill.

"Do you have a headache?" Hannah asked, looking concerned.

"They're for Adam," I said. "He acted as though he had a headache."

In a suddenness that surprised me, Hannah gave me a tight hug, and a smile.

7

I didn't think Adam would have gone far. Somewhere quiet, more than likely. And, I found him in the barn,

dipping a cloth in saddle soap, and polishing his saddle.

"Hi," I said quietly, and he turned to look at me.

"I didn't even hear you coming up."

I held up the coffee. "I brought you some coffee."

He paused, and wiped his hands on the cloth.

"And some cookies," I added.

"Well, thank you."

"And," I said, holding out the last objects. "A couple Tylenol. I thought you might have a headache."

Adam took the two capsules from me, and downed them with a swig of the coffee. "Was I that obvious?" he asked me.

"No. Not obvious," I assured him.

"You're just observant, huh?"

I shrugged lightly. "I guess."

He took the molasses cookies from me then. "I'm gonna sit down, so I can enjoy these," he said, and went to sit at the rear of the barn,

looking out over the back pastures.

"Pull up a hay bale," he said, patting the spot beside him.

I hesitated. "Are you sure?" I asked him. "You came out here to be alone."

"Harlie Marie. Sit down," he said.

So, I sat down next to him on the bale of hay. We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, as he ate

the cookies, and finished the coffee. When he'd done that, he set the cup down on the floor of the barn.

"Good cookies," he said. "Darn good."

"Thanks."

"Thank you for makin' them."

"I like to bake," I said. "Cooking, not so much. But, baking, yeah."

"It's a good skill to have."

After a few moments of quiet again, looking out over the grassy pastures to the back, Adam turned to

look at me. "What's this about a school project?" he asked. "Ivy mentioned it when she was here."

"Oh." I launched into an explanation of the program, and what it entailed, and offered. I realized, belatedly, that

I probably should have mentioned it to Adam before now. I wondered if this fell into the realm of the things

that he expected to hear from me, and not from other people.

"I would have talked to you about it," I said hastily. "Or I mean, Crane would have. I can't apply until after

school starts-"

"Relax," Adam told me. "If you've run it by Crane, then I'm fine with it."

"He's still thinking about it," I admitted. "He doesn't want me to take on too much."

"No. He doesn't." Adam smiled a little. "He worries."

"Yeah," I said, in agreement. "Do you think it sounds good?"

"It sounds like a good opportunity," he said.

"I wasn't sure I'd be able to work with anybody besides Doc G. But, I like Ivy. I think I'd enjoy working with her."

"I'm sure Doc G would be proud," Adam said.

I felt quick tears spring to my eyes. "Do you think so?" I asked, feeling emotional. "I'd want him to be proud of me."

Adam wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "I think that if he's wearing a vest in Heaven right now, he's popping off the

buttons with pride in you."

At that, I buried my face in Adam's chest, and cried. I'd come out to the barn, intent on offering him comfort, and

instead, he'd supplied comfort to me.

7


	78. Hangin' on

The next morning after breakfast, I was in with my goats, when a sheriff's car pulled up the driveway, and parked. Hal, the sheriff,

and a deputy got out, looking around.

When they saw me, they began walking my direction. I came out quickly, shutting the gate behind me.

"Hello, Harlie," Hal said.

I said hello, and he asked me if I knew where Adam or Brian or Crane were at.

"They're not too far, I don't think," I told him.

"I'd like to talk to them, if you can locate them."

"Okay," I told him. "Do you want to go in the house while I go look?"  
I thought he looked a little amused. "We're fine outside, Harlie. Thank you."

"Try to find Evan, if you can, too, please," Hal said, as I began to hike towards the pasture.

I paused, looking back at him. "Evan's not in trouble, is he?" I asked, worried that this was about the whole Seth

debacle earlier in the summer, where Evan had punched Seth.

"No, Harlie," he said, smiling at me. "He's not in trouble."

I sprinted off, locating Brian in the pasture, where he was on horseback, riding thru the cattle there.

I told him about Hal, and he got off his horse, saying he would walk to the house, and for me to ride horseback to

the other pasture, where he thought Adam and Evan might be fixing fence.

When I rode up, Adam's first reaction was an alarmed look, seeing me on Brian's horse that way.

"Everything alright?" he asked, coming up to hold the side of the bridle.

"Yes. The sheriff's here. He wants to talk to you. Brian went on up."

"Okay," Adam said.

"I'll keep workin' here," Evan said.

"He wants to talk to you, too, Ev," I said.

"He does?"

"Yes. I asked, and he said it's nothing bad, though," I reported.

"I'll pick up the tools, and come up," Evan said, and Adam said alright, and walked on towards the house.

I sat where I was, mounted.

"Want a ride up?" I offered.

"Yeah. Sure."

Evan finished what he was doing, and swung up behind me, and we rode towards the house.

"Want to hurry?" I asked, in an offer to gallop.

"Don't need to hurry," Evan said.

"I thought maybe when he said to get you, that it was about the fight you got into with Seth," I rambled on.

"So you asked, huh?"

"Well, yeah," I said, twisting in the saddle to look at him as best as I could. "I don't want you going to jail for assault."

"Assault," he said, and sort of laughed.

"Well, yeah. Punching Seth in the face qualifies as assault."

He shook his head, and I faced forward again.

We only had about ten minutes or so before we reached the house, so I plunged ahead with what was on my mind.

I told Evan how the burros were grazing on grass that had been eaten down to the nub.

"Adam says they'll go foraging for food," I went on.

"They might."

"I was wondering-" I said, and paused.

"Wondering what?"

"If maybe you would help me, and together we could help them."

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, and I felt a leap of hope.

I twisted in the saddle again, hooking my leg over the saddle horn. "Maybe we could move them back up to the canyon," I

suggested. "Since they have the case settled, and there won't be any more poachers up there."

"What makes you think the case is settled?"

I gave him a look of confusion. "Well, they've arrested people, and all that. And I figured that's why they're at the house now. To

tell what they've gotten done. Right?"

"Maybe. That doesn't mean it's over, though. There might still be poachers around, trying to make a last buck before the

whole thing collapses, and they get ratted out by the ones who've been caught," Evan cautioned.

"Well, if it is almost over, then will you help me to move the burros?" I implored.

He was quiet for a long few moments. "I don't know. Let me think about it."

"What is there to think about?" I immediately pounced.

"I just wanna think about it."

"Ford would help. And Guthrie. We could even ask Kristin to help. That should be enough people. There

was about twenty or so in the herd we saw yesterday-"

"Harlie," he interrupted. "I said I'd think about it."

When I would have argued more, he said, "Remember our agreement we made the other night? I say somethin'. You listen. We get along. Remember that?"

I turned to face forward, trying not to appear as though I was pouting. "I remember," I said.

After a few moments of silence, he said, "What makes you think they can't go back up there on their own, anyway?"

"I don't know. Maybe they're afraid to. They don't know there won't be any more guns or helicopters chasing them

down," I pointed out.

He was quiet, and then said, "Maybe so."

We were within sight of the house by now, and he said, "We'll talk about it some more." He swung down from the back of the horse,

and looked up at me, when I didn't answer. "Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay."

"Don't do somethin' stupid," he cautioned.

"Like what?"

"You know what. Trying to round those burros up and doing it yourself."

"Gosh," I said, pretending to be shocked. "I never would have thought of such a thing as that."

"I'm not kidding around with you, Har. I'm dead serious. I'll kick your butt if you try it."

"I won't, Ev," I said.

"Okay," he said.

I was going to ride on into the corral after he'd walked towards the house, to unsaddle Brian's horse. But, something, an

instinct of some sort, had me looking back. And there, just over the fence of the next pasture, stood the burro. I don't know

how Evan and I had missed seeing him standing there.

I watched Evan, as he was nearly to the house. And then, I turned Brian's horse, and headed back towards the Jack.

7

I was able to ride nearly up onto him, with just the fence separating us. I pulled to a halt, and he and I regarded

one another.

"Where's your Jenny?" I asked him, as if he could understand me. "And where were you yesterday, huh? We wanted

to have Ivy look at you to see if you're sick."

He stared at me out of his huge brown eyes.

"You don't look sick," I told him. "I don't think you are."

At that moment, I wished mightily that I had an apple with me. Or a carrot. I would have disobeyed Adam, and given

it to the Jack.

I considered, looking towards the barn.

"Do you want an apple?" I asked him. "Wait right here and I'll get you one. Or two."

I galloped then, sliding off to go into the barn, and grab several apples. I had no pockets in my shirt, and the apples wouldn't

fit in my jean's pockets, so I had to juggle them in my hands, while holding the reins. I remounted, and galloped back

across the pastures to where he stood, still waiting. Though, this time, he was on my side of the fence.

"How did you do that?" I demanded of him. "Are you some kind of magic burro or something?"

I slid down from Brian's horse, and stood still, holding out an apple. "You have to take it from me," I told the Jack. "I'm not

gonna throw it to you."

It took a few minutes, maybe five or so, of me standing perfectly still, and just talking, and then, he stepped the few

feet closer, and took the apple from my hand.

Bits of it dropped from his mouth, and he chomped away.

When he'd finished, he sniffed at the ground for more, and then raised his head, staring at me.

"Want another?" I asked. I held out the second one, and he accepted that, too.

I went on talking to him. "We need to let Ivy look at you," I said. "Would you do that for me? Because then, maybe

Adam and Brian won't dislike you so much, when they find out you're not the one that made the cattle sick."

Eventually, I rode back to the house. They'd be missing me, I thought, if I didn't reappear soon. I unsaddled

the horse, and rubbed him down, and put the saddle away in the tack shed.

I went into the house by the back door. Clare was busy stirring something in a big bowl. I could sniff

the yeasty smell of bread.

"Harlie, does this look right to you?" she asked me, and I went over to peer into the large glass bowl. There

was a mass of dough.

"Making bread?" I asked her. "Wow. Homemade bread is hard."

"I thought I'd try it. Of course I pick the hottest day to do it."

"It looks good to me," I told her. "But I've never tried it all on my own, either."

I washed my hands at the sink. "Is the sheriff still here?" I asked.

"Yes. Still here."

"What's he saying? Do you know?"

"He's bringing them up to date on arrests. All of that." She flicked a glance at me, looking mildly

sympathetic.

"What?" I asked her.

"I think Seth was one of them."

"Oh." I thought for a moment. "Well, I figured. I mean, it's not a real surprise."

"No." She gave me a half-smile. "I know. But I also know that you thought he was changing a little bit.

Trying to get himself straight."

"I did think that. The day he said it to me, anyway," I said wryly.

"Do you want to help me?" she asked then. "Or do you want to go in and listen to what they're talking

about?"

"I don't need to. I can find out about it when they leave. I'll help you. Let me go up and change

first, though." I pulled off my boots and socks, leaving them by the back door.

I went up the back stairs, and to my room, stripping off my jeans and exchanging them for a pair

of cut-off denim shorts, and a tank top. When I came out into the hallway, I could still hear the

murmur of voices in the living room. I went down the hall to Hannah and Adam's bedroom, going in

and closing the door quietly behind me. Isaac was napping in his crib, laying on his stomach, with his

thumb half-in and half-out of his mouth.

I dialed the phone number, from memory, of the vet office, and waited, not really expecting Ivy

to answer. When she did, I was surprised. I kept my voice low, so as not to wake the baby.

"Hi, Ivy. It's Harlie."

"Hi, Harlie!"

"I saw the Jack just a few minutes ago. He was in our pasture."

"Oh."

"I didn't know if you could come back out now to look at him?" I asked. "I can pay you-like for

an actual visit. And I can pay you for the testing supplies-"

"We'll worry about all of that later. I can come within an hour or so, I think. If he'd still be around," she said.

I was thinking hard. "I could maybe get him to go into our corral, so he'd be easier to examine."

"If you think you can, that sure would help," she agreed.

I hung up after Ivy said that she'd be over as soon as she was able.

I went back downstairs to the kitchen, where Clare was pulling the dough apart to make

separate loaves.

"Ready?" she asked me.

"I have to do something first," I told her. I explained about Ivy, and how I needed to get the Jack into

the corral.

"Shouldn't you have some help?" she asked me. "I mean, he's not just going to walk in, is he?"

"Maybe not as easy as that," I said, and went back over to grab my boots and socks that I'd left

by the back door when I came in.

I sat down to pull them on, while Clare continued looking at me.

"I'll go look for Ford or Guthrie," I said.

"Shouldn't you-" she began, and then paused.

I knew what she was getting at. "I'll get permission," I told her.

As if on cue, when I was heading towards the living room, full charge, I nearly ran smack into

Brian. I could see Hal and the deputy heading out the front door, followed by various McFaddens.

"Hey," Brian said, reaching out to steady me with his hands. "Just about had a collision there, peach."

"Sorry," I said automatically. "Ivy's on the way back over."

"She has the results?" he asked, and I realized that it hadn't even occurred to me about the blood work she'd taken

on our cattle.

"I'm not sure about that. She's coming to try to check the burro out."

"I thought you all couldn't locate him."

"We couldn't. But he was here, just a little bit ago."

I looked up at Brian, meeting his eye. "I thought I'd try to get him into the corral. To make it easier for her."

"Think you can manage that, huh?" he asked me.

"I can try."

"Alright. But, grab one of the boys to help you," he told me.

So, I turned around, going out the back door, and went in search of Ford or Guthrie. I didn't see them, though, not right off.

And, I was thinking how time was ticking away. So I saddled Charley, and filled a bucket with apples, grabbed a rope, and went out to see if the burro was still

in the same place as before.

He was. Munching on the grass. I thought how different our grass was, compared to what I'd seen with Ivy and Crane, that

the herd of burros had been eating.

I pulled the bucket I'd had hooked over the saddle horn off and slid down from Charley's back.

I began talking quietly as I was walking forward a few steps.

"Look," I said, waving a apple at him.

He was interested. He kept his eye on me, but didn't come any nearer.

"Remember when I told you about how Ivy was going to look you over?" I said, just as if he would understand. "Well, now's

the time." I waved the apple at him again.

I took Charley's reins in my one hand, and then held out the apple in the other, and began walking really slowly towards

the corral. "You want the apple?" I asked the burro. "Come on, and I'll give it to you."

At first I thought I was going to succeed. I thought he was going to follow right along with me. He was taking a few

steps after me and Charley.

"Wow," I thought. How amazing would it be, if he just walked right into the corral for me? I was feeling pretty darn smug.

That was, until he stopped. And went back to eating grass.

"Hey," I said, rattling the bucket of apples at him again.

He didn't move. Alright, I thought, I'll give him one more apple. Just to remind him, and entice him.

So I walked back to him, holding out an apple. I did succeed in getting him to take it from my hand, just like earlier. I reached

out while he was chewing the apple, to run my hand over the top of his head.

His fur was soft, not rough like I thought it would be. He only tolerated my touch for a couple of seconds, though, and then he

moved away a few feet. I tried again then, holding out another apple, and trying to get him to follow me. No luck. He just

stood there, staring.

I stood there, debating what to do. If he wouldn't follow me easily, with apples as a bribe, then I needed to herd

him in. And, to do that, I needed more than just myself. It would be too easy for him to skitter away from me, and run the

opposite direction. Unless. Hmm. Plan B.

"Alright, mister," I said, eyeing him. I went back over to where Charley stood, ground-tied, and munching grass. I took off the

rope, the one of Evan's that I'd coiled up and hooked over the saddle horn as well.

I hid it behind my back, and took another apple, holding that out. I walked up to him again, and as he was taking the

apple from my hand, I quickly put the rope around his neck. He shook his head back and forth, and I tried not to tug,

so he might not realize what was happening. I uncoiled it as I stepped back to Charley and mounted.

Then I gave just the slightest of tugs and urged Charley forward.

The burro reacted so quickly that I myself, had no time to react. He planted his four feet and jerked, and began to

flop around as though he was at a rodeo.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound calm and soothing.

My 'hey' was lost on the Jack. He snapped his head around so hard that it took me right off of Charley's back. I landed

hard, but I still had the rope in my hand. It was just instinct to pull back on the rope as the burro pulled the other way.

He even pulled me along a couple of feet, on my behind.

And then, there in the field somewhere. I could hear their voices from behind me, beside me, but I didn't see them.

"Turn him loose, Har!"

"Harlie! Let him go, I've got him!"

So I dropped the rope, although that wasn't as easy as it sounds. It seemed to be embedded in my palms, almost.

Evan had the rope tightened, and was pulling the burro towards the corral, mounted on his own horse.

"Hey," Ford said, crouching down beside me. "You alright?"

I nodded.

"Here," Ford said, holding out a hand to me.

I let him pull me to my feet, wanting to wince at his touch. My palms hurt.

7


	79. Next time

Ford and I remounted and cantered after Evan, who had accomplished getting the Jack to the corral.

"Open the gate," he hollered, looking as though it was taking considerable effort to hold on to the rope.

I scrambled down and ran over, opening the gate to the corral, and Evan went on in, leading the

burro. Or more accurately, dragging the burro.

Ford swung the gate back shut again, and held it, while Evan sat there still, for a few moments, letting

the burro settle down.

"Coming out?" Ford called to him.

"I was thinkin'-maybe we had oughta get him into the cattle chute," Evan called back. "Ivy's gonna try

to get a blood sample, right?"

"Yes!" I hollered back.

"How long till she gets here?"

"Not long now. She said an hour, and that was quite awhile ago."

"Okay," Evan said, and then waved at Ford and I. "Come on, let's try to get him in."

And, so we did try. All we got accomplished was for Ford to nearly get kicked by a pair of vicious hind legs, and for a considerable

amount of swearing to take place. But, no burro in the cattle chute.

We paused, out of breath, and Evan let the end of the rope he'd had ahold of, drop to the ground. The burro took the

opportunity to go to the far side of the corral, away from us, dragging the rope behind him. He stationed himself there, and

stared reproachfully at the three of us.

"Now we've scared him," I said, with regret. "He won't trust me anymore."

"We didn't have much choice in it," Evan said. "If you want him looked over, he needs to be where he can be contained."

"I know," I said, still feeling badly.

"Just leave him be for a bit," Evan said. "Maybe he'll settle down before she gets here."

He led his horse out of the corral, and Ford and I followed, latching the gate behind us.

I followed along after Evan. "What did the sheriff say?" I asked him.

"They've made a few more arrests. Narrowed down who's left. They're trying to come to the bottom of who

did what, like shooting our cattle."

"Seth was involved, though?" I asked him, and Evan gave me a side-long look.

"Yeah. He was."

"Other local people, too?" I asked then. "Besides Seth, and Kenny, and Kristin's stepfather?"

"A few. But mostly outsiders."

"It just seems so wrong," I said. "I mean, it's wrong for everybody to do it, but it's worse when it's somebody that's from here. Like Kenny."

Evan didn't say anything to that, to agree or disagree, but he looked serious and nodded his head.

I was walking to the house, to go in and wash my hands with soap. They were really hurting, from the rope burns. But, nearly

to the house, and Ivy arrived. So I retraced my steps to go back over and greet her.

"Get him into the corral?" she asked, sounding efficient.

"Yeah. We got him in. But we couldn't get him into the chute."

"We'll figure it out. Are the guys all out working, away from the house?"

"No. The sheriff left just a bit ago. I think they're still inside," I told her.

"I thought we'd go over what the results of the tests were."

"Oh, okay," I said. "Come inside."

We went up the front steps and inside. Voices from the kitchen area, and I motioned to Ivy.

"Sounds like they're in here," I said.

Ivy was greeted by everyone in the kitchen, where they were all gathered around the table. Talking, I presumed,

about what the sheriff had had to say.

Crane and Brian stood up when she came into the room, and Adam turned from where he was pouring a cup of coffee.

Everyone said hello, and Ivy was invited to sit down.

"You've got news for us, I take it?" Adam asked.

"I do."

"Well, have a seat," Brian told her. "We might as well hear it sitting down."

I could tell, even though he was trying to make a small joke, that he was tense about hearing whatever it was.

"Lemonade or some tea?" Hannah was asking.

"Tea, please," Lily said, and sat down in a vacant chair.

Crane poured a glass of iced tea, and set it in front of her.

"Thanks," Ivy said. She sent a glance round the table at the anxious faces.

"My news isn't the best," she began. "It's conjunctivitis. Connected to IBR."

"Oh, no," Hannah said, in a breathy sort of way.

"Damn," Brian muttered.

Everyone else was silent. We all knew that IBR was abbreviated for Infectious Bovine Rhinotrachetitis. Well, everyone but Clare, anyway.

And we all knew it was serious.

Evan got up, sort of suddenly, and went out the back door without saying anything more.

Ivy was talking about rounds of antibiotics, and sorting to find the carrier cattle, and all of that.

I felt suddenly depressed. And still, not knowing what was coming with the burro.

They all started discussing this and that, moving the cattle that had been separated, back into the corral, to

start the antibiotics and treatment.

Adam, who'd been quiet up until now, said, "Let's have lunch before we start on with it. It'll be a long rest of the day."

And so, everyone started, getting plates set around the table, and sandwich fixings out.

"Harlie," Hannah said quietly, in the midst of the hubbub, "Go out and see if you can find Evan and Guthrie, and tell

them we're having lunch."

"Okay," I said, and went outside. It wasn't hard. One look towards the corral, and there was Evan, Guthrie alongside of him,

where he had the burro nearly into the cattle chute.

I ran over, pulling myself up onto the second panel of the corral fence. "How did you do it?" I asked.

Guthrie was hooking a bucket filled with something just inside the chute, so that the burro could eat from it.

"Horse treats," Evan said, coiling up the rope that had been on the burro.

I was actually very suitably impressed. "That's amazing," I said.

"He's calmed down. It wasn't that difficult," Evan said.

"Hannah says come and eat lunch. Then they're gonna start on the antibiotics for the cattle."

"I don't have much of an appetite," Evan said, with a sigh.

"I'll tell you what you tell me," I said stoutly. "You have to eat, even when you don't feel like it."

"I don't have diabetes," Evan said shortly, and just as I was feeling the prick of his words, he met my eyes and said,

"Sorry, shortcake. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

I shrugged it off. "It's okay."

"Come on, Ev," Guthrie said, climbing over the fence, and dropping to the other side.

"I'll be in in a minute," Evan said, looking out towards the fields as though deep in thought.

Guthrie looked to me, and then gave a shrug, and ambled towards the house to his own lunch.

I stayed where I was, perched on the corral, wondering what had Evan so deep in thought.

Before he could answer, there was a whistle from the back steps. I looked over to see Adam standing there,

motioning to us to come inside.

"Adam says come in," I said.

"You go on," Evan said, still sounding as though he was far off in thought.

I gave in, and stepped to the ground, going towards the back door.

When I'd reached Adam, he was looking out towards where Evan still stood.

"Evan coming?" he asked me.

I paused, looking at Adam, a bit worried. "I don't know. He looks like he's a million miles away in thought about something. He

says he'll be in in a minute."

After a moment's silence, Adam put a hand at the back of my neck. "Go on and eat your lunch. We're gonna need you

this afternoon."

I went inside, pausing only to see Adam, as he started off purposefully towards the corral, to talk to Evan.

7

I don't know just what Adam said to Evan after that. I just know that when Adam came back inside and sat down in his chair at the

table, Evan was with him.

I ate my sandwich, and munched on the carrots and radishes that were on a platter. I'd washed my hands before I'd sat down,

but they were raw and sore. I ate my sandwich mostly with my left hand, since it hurt the least.

As everyone was finishing their meal, and began to make their way outside again, I took a moment to run upstairs, and smear

first aid ointment over my palms, and then stuck some bandaids on the worst spots.

The Jack had apparently decided to be compliant with what needed to be done. Ivy took blood samples, and he hardly raised

his head, still rooting in the bucket for more treats. After that, she looked him over, rubbing his head, and talking to him

in a quiet way.

"He is a beauty," Ivy said, nearly to herself it seemed.

At any other time, I would have proudly proclaimed to Brian, 'See? Ivy's a vet, and she thinks he's beautiful."

But, this wasn't any other time. We had problems. Big ones. And it wasn't in me to gloat over something that seemed

so trivial and childish.

When the Jack had been examined, we opened the corral gate and let him back out into the pastures.

I went to saddle Charley, and by the time I returned, there were brothers scattered, and Hannah as well, preparing to herd

the separated cattle back to the corral again.

I moved as if to help with that, when Adam rode up alongside of me. I pulled Charley to a stop.

"See if you can persuade the burro to move on. I don't want him hanging around too close right now, until we

get everything done."

There was so much to say. Aw, but I said none of it.

I galloped off to do as he said. The Jack had paused at the edge of the grazing cattle. The cattle who were mixed in with

the borrowed bull. The burro seemed perfectly content, and when I made some shooing motions at him, he just gave me

the stare only a burro who has just been given a bucket of treats could give. He had no qualms about me now.

So I rode Charley up closer to him, actually leaning down to give him a push. "Go," I ordered.

He lowered his head, only to nip a mouthful of grass, and then chewed, watching me.

"You're gonna get me into more trouble," I told him. "Go!"

I succeeded only in persuading him to move a bit further. But, at least he was out of sight, and grazing in a different area.

I rode back, and by now the twelve or so head of cattle were in the corral. Ivy, Crane and Adam were in the corral,

and were doing antibiotic injections. Brian was riding amongst the cattle and bull, and I knew he was searching for any

others who might appear to be sick.

Evan was on the tractor, pulling the big pasture mower behind, and was mowing the grass down thru the same pasture.

Hannah was gone, probably back in the house. And Ford and Guthrie were joining the group in the corral.

I rode up alongside of Brian. "What do you want me to do?" I asked him.

"You know where the notebook is? The one with the tag numbers, and all that?" he asked.

"Yes. I know. I put it back on the desk after the other day."

"Well, get it and bring it back out here, alright?"

"Yes," I said, and galloped back to the house. I was as quick as I could be, to locate the notebook, and then raced back

down the front stairs, and hopped onto Charley's back again.

When I was back with Brian, I opened the notebook, turning it to the first blank page, and unclipping the attached pen.

Brian was quiet for a few minutes, just riding amongst the cattle. Every once in awhile, when Evan got too close with the

mower, it would startle the cows a bit and they would mill around.

"Why's he doing that now?" I asked, after Evan had made another pass thru the grass.

"I think he's trying to find a fix it," Brian said.

I wasn't sure just what he meant, but I didn't ask anymore. Brian got down from his horse, and I did, too, and

we began walking thru the herd.

"What are we looking for?" I asked him. "To see if any of these are sick?"

"I've already done that," he said. "I think we're okay with this group. So far."

He motioned toward my notebook, as he kept walking. "Write down 37," he told me. "And 44."

I obediently wrote down the two numbers, as he added, "Put the date on there."

When I'd added today's date, I'd figured out that he was looking for obviously bred heifers.

At one point, I resituated the pen in my hand, so that it wasn't rubbing the palm, and Brian noticed. I hadn't realized

he was even looking at me, until he said, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I said quickly.

"Somethin' wrong with your hand?" he asked then.

I couldn't lie. But, it obviously was not the right moment to tell him I had rope burns on my palms.

"They're just sore, from this morning," I said vaguely, and he didn't say anymore.

It was while we were still doing that, walking, and writing numbers, that I saw the Jack. He'd come

right back from the incline where I'd shooed him to, and was back nearby again, mixed in with the cattle.

At first I wasn't going to say anything. And then, I realized that was dumb. Brian had eyes. He would see

for himself.

I sighed, and held out the notebook to him.

"What, are you quittin' on me?" he asked.

"No." I gestured towards the Jack, who was walking our direction. "I just need to shoo him away again. Adam

said he didn't want him around until we were done."

Brian took the notebook from me, and nodded, as I mounted Charley and rode up to the burro again.

This time I took a more firm tactic. I ran Charley alongside of him, though not in a mean way, or a threatening way.

"Go," I commanded. "Come back later!"

Every time the burro would lope for a bit, and I would think I'd been successful, I would begin to ride off, and

he would follow me. By the third time, I was frustrated. I heard Brian calling to me, able to hear, since Evan had

disappeared over a hill with the mower. I looked towards Brian, and he was motioning at me to come back.

I cantered back over to him, and slid off of Charley's back, half expecting Brian to use the opportunity to

scold me. All about the obvious and valid reasons why I should never have encouraged the burro to

trust me, and get used to being around humans.

But, he didn't. All he said was, "It seems as though he's set on stayin' where he is. Leave it until later."

7

It was, as Adam had predicted, a long and strenuous afternoon. It was nearly the supper hour when the cattle had

all been treated. I felt as though I'd been wrung thru a wringer of some sort. Like those old hand-fed washing machines.

Everybody felt that way, I knew.

As we all paused, in the front yard, my brothers were inviting Ivy to stay for supper.

"Thanks," she said. "But, I need to get home to check on Blue. He hasn't been feeling well."

After she'd gotten into her truck, saying that she would be back the next day again to check over the cattle, she

drove down the driveway.

Clare had been busy in our absence from the house. She had made homemade pizza, with lots of cheese and pieces of

bacon on the top. And she'd set it all up in the living room, on the coffee table and card tables, along with paper plates

and cans of cold beer and Coke.

"I thought it would be relaxing to eat in here," she said. "Since everybody will want to shower and we'll just stagger the

meal this way."

Adam gave Clare an affectionate smile, and Brian gave her a quick kiss.

"Looks great," he said, sounding weary.

"Shall we flip a coin for the shower?" Guthrie asked, addressing everybody in the group.

"No. You go on first, Guth," Adam told him.

Hannah, who, by the looks of her wet hair, had already had a shower, said, "Somebody can use the shower in

our bedroom."

So then, one by one, McFaddens went to take a quick shower. That was, until the hot water ran out, and the

remainder decided to wait it out.

Thus, some were in sweats and clean t shirts, and some still wore the jeans and work shirts of the day. Though everyone had

taken their boots off. There was quite a stack by the front door.

Nancy arrived, off from her shift at the farm supply store. She said it had been a tiresome day in town, as well.

Talk of the arrests was rampant, and causing sides to be taken. Besides which, the air conditioner at the store had

gone on the fritz.

"Can I borrow a pair of shorts?" she asked me. Since she is taller, but we're about the same size otherwise, I figured

one of my pairs would fit her.

When she reappeared downstairs again, and helped herself to a piece of the pizza, she said, "Sure feels good to

get cool."

I ate some pizza, and drank a Coke, and then, while everybody was sitting about, eating and talking, though more

somberly than usual, I went upstairs. I took a quick shower, in mostly cold water, and didn't properly shampoo my hair.

I was still treating my hands with care. The bandaids I'd put on earlier had not stayed on long.

After soaping them in my shower, I dried them really well with a towel, patting not rubbing. Then I put on more

antibiotic crème. I wished I could wrap them in gauze and tape, but that would draw too many questions.

And the bandaids would be sure to catch someone's eye this time around. So I just left them that way, with the

first aid stuff on them, open to the air, and went back downstairs. It didn't help that the inside of my thighs were chafed from riding

all afternoon in shorts.

I gathered my hair back and fastened it into a ponytail. It hurt my palms to hold the hairbrush at that point.

Downstairs, I helped myself to another slice of pizza, and sat down cross-legged on the floor, in front of the couch,

beside Guthrie.

"What's for dessert?" Ford was asking, and Clare laughed. "I don't think there's any of Harlie's cookies left. But we

have a cake. I didn't have time to frost it yet."

"Who needs frosting?" Ford said, and went off to the kitchen in search of the cake.

From where he sat just behind me, Brian leaned forward, and tapped my shoulder. "Hand me a couple of

paper towels, will you, peach?" he said to me. "Clare's makin' a mess over here."

"Me?" Clare said, pretending to be insulted. "I don't believe it's me making the mess."

I was laughing, glad that Brian was trying to lighten the mood, since everybody was down, and concerned about

what the sickness amongst our cattle would mean for us. I reached for a couple of paper towels, pulling them off the roll, and

then twisting to hand them to him.

Brian took them, eyeing the greasy spot I'd made on them, from the ointment smeared on my hands.

"Dang, you need a paper towel yourself," he chided me. "Your hands are all greasy from the pizza." He moved

to reach for my hand, jokingly, and caught me before I could snatch it back.

A glance at my palm, and then he raised his eyes to look at me. I tried to pull it away without jerking, and

after a couple of moments he let loose.

I gave him a somewhat tremulous look, and he only raised an eyebrow, and then said nothing, going on to eat his

pizza.

Afterwards, I was helping Clare gather up the plates, and take the empty cans to the kitchen trash. Nancy was preparing

to head for home, telling everyone goodbye, and Evan walked her outside.

Hannah and Adam both went upstairs together, Adam carrying a sleeping Isaac. Crane and Ford disappeared, and Guthrie

flopped onto the couch, preparing to watch a western on television.

In the kitchen, Clare and I made a quick tidy-up. She gave me a side hug. "Thanks," she said. And then, to Brian, who

was pouring a glass of iced tea, she said, "Coming up to bed?"

"Yeah. I'm beat. I'll be up in a minute," he told her.

"Okay. Night, Harlie."

"Goodnight," I said. I got out my supplies, and did my injection, and then began tidying up and putting things away again.

Brian, meanwhile, went to the cupboard and got down the first aid kit, going to sit at the kitchen table.

I knew full well what he was doing, so when I finished putting things away, and looked at him, I wasn't surprised

when he said, without any fanfare, "Sit down," nodding towards the chair next to his.

I went to sit next to him, turning my knees so that we were facing one another. He took a tissue and began wiping

gently at my palms, taking off what was left of the first aid ointment.

"Go wash now," he ordered.

I sighed, and got up, going to the sink, where I washed my hands again.

"Get a clean towel out," he said then, and I took a clean dish towel from the drawer, and began patting at my

palms.

When I sat back down, facing him again, he took the towel from me, and then took one of my hands, patting it

himself with the towel, and giving it a once-over.

Then he held out his hand for my other one, and took it, drying it and inspecting it as well.

"You surely did a number on 'em," he said. "What happened?"

"I was trying to get the Jack into the corral."

"By yourself?" he said, lifting his eyes to me.

I didn't answer, only giving him a guilty sort of look.

He pulled out peroxide from the container, and prepared to douse my hands with it, both at the same time, and it

dripped onto the towel draped over my lap.

"Ow," I protested.

Brian went on, seemingly without any sympathy for the way the peroxide burned.

He waited a moment or so, and then began to pat my palms again with the towel.

"Do I talk to hear my own voice?" he asked me then.

Ah. One of those questions that were asked, when you'd done, or not done in this case, something you'd been

instructed to do.

"Do I?" he prompted, when I was silent.

"No, Bri."

"Are you sure? Because I think I very definitely told you to get some help, gettin' the burro in. Did I not?"

"Yes."

He gave me another long look, and then began reapplying first aid ointment. I sucked my breath in at one point. I couldn't

stop it. It hurt, the way that he was pressing. Though he wasn't being overly rough or anything like that.

After he'd done that part of it, he took out gauze, and then wrapped it around my whole hand, first one, and then

the other, securing it with first aid tape.

"We'll take a look in the morning," he said then. "Make sure they don't look infected. Redo the antibiotic stuff, and

put on fresh gauze. We might have Clare take a look at them, too."

"Okay," I agreed. I lifted my wrapped hands, and said, in an attempt to prevent any further scolding, "I look like a mummy, huh?"

Brian met my eyes, not showing any sign that he was amused.

"Why didn't you just let go of the rope?" he asked me.

I hesitated, and then said, in honesty, "It didn't occur to me to let go. It felt natural to hang on."

He shook his head a little, as if he was irritated.

"Besides," I went on, "I knew we had to get him checked out-and Ivy was on her way."

Still, he said nothing. Just regarded me with a raised eyebrow sort of look.

"I couldn't find the boys," I admitted, in defeat. Brian would have made a great interrogator, I thought.

"Uh huh," he said in reply. An answer which really wasn't an answer at all, I thought.

I moved, as if to get up from my chair. "Thanks for patching me up," I said lightly. "I better get to bed."

I didn't stand on up, though, because Brian's other knee was blocking my path, and he made no effort to move it.

I settled back into my chair, looking at him tremulously.

"Come on, Bri," I cajoled. "You're making it big. It's not a big thing-"

"Oh?" he said. "It's not, huh?"

I realized my mistake. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," I said hastily.

After another long few moments, of him looking at me, all stern-like, he moved his knee, just slightly.

"Stand up, then," he said.

And then, I hesitated. There was a look about him. I figured I was about to get my butt swatted, at the very least. Though I didn't sense any real anger on his part.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, and now I thought he looked a bit amused.

"Wondering how fast I should move," I answered.

Now, I knew he was amused. The corners of his mouth turned up a bit.

"How lucky do you feel?" he asked.

"Not so lucky," I admitted.

Brian leaned closer, so his face was only inches from my own. "Next time, let go of the rope."

He pulled me to my feet, careful of my bandaged hands, and kissed the top of my head.

That night, I think I was asleep, nearly as soon as I laid down.

7


	80. Maizie of the mind

A couple of days went by, and more news filtered in about the case surrounding the Mustangs. A couple of other younger

men from our area, in their early twenties, had been part of helping to round up and poach the horses. One of them had been

friends with Daniel when they were in high school.

Frank was out on bail, was what Kristin reported to Guthrie during a phone conversation. He was making himself scarce,

though, not hanging around the trailer park much.

Whenever I thought about Kenny, I felt all weird inside. Guthrie, too, seemed thoughtful a lot of the time, as if he

were miles away.

One of the mornings, I went with Hannah and Crane to the grocery store, and even there, you could hear the differing

opinions of townspeople concerning the case. Even the older women from our church were clustered together, at the end of

the dairy aisle at the store, gossiping over things. Men, though, they seemed to linger more over the topics of

whether it was wrong or right to round up the wild herds and sell them off.

That wasn't the greatest of mornings. After hearing a couple of those conversations in passing, and then having the

checkout girl at the grocery store, Maizie, talk about the horses, saying, "I don't see what the big deal is. They're just horses.

They're not anybody's pets, or anything like that. Why shouldn't people make a little money from them? Everybody knows

they give the ranchers problems."

I was so suddenly furious, white-hot with anger, that I snatched at the bag she was reaching for, and began putting the

food into it myself, instead of waiting.

"I'll do it," I told her, in a clipped tone.

"What's your problem, Harlie?" she asked me, looking genuinely perplexed.

I wanted to say something mean, really mean, but I felt both Hannah and Crane's eyes on me. Hannah looked

a trifle concerned that I was going to rip Maizie's head right off of her body. Crane didn't say a word. At least not

vocal. But, the look he was giving me, was loud and clear. I'd have him to deal with if I shot off my mouth, and told Maizie

just what I thought of her. I remembered how he'd gotten on to me earlier in the summer, saying that he wanted me to

be kinder to people, not to judge so harshly.

I settled for an answer that I thought wouldn't have me in trouble with Crane, or with Hannah.

"I just wish you'd learn some more about the Mustangs," I told her. "Before you form an opinion, I mean."

"What is there to learn?" she asked, blithely.

Again, I would have liked to have pulled some of that bleached-blonde hair from her head.

"There's lots to learn about them," I said, and then knew that I'd reached my Maizie-limit of the day.

I took the sack that I'd filled with our groceries, and left the rest of the bagging and carrying to Maizie and Crane, and

went on outside to the Jeep, where I stowed the bag in the back seat and then climbed in myself.

It took Crane and Hannah a few minutes to finish and come outside with the rest of the groceries. Crane went around to

the back, and put some of the perishable stuff in the cooler. When he got back in behind the steering wheel, Hannah sort

of twisted to face me.

"We're going to run down to the doctor office and let Doctor Meyer have a look at your hands," she said.

"What?" I immediately began to protest. "We don't need to do that. They're a lot better."

"They're some better, yes, but they're still awfully red." Hannah said. "And Clare thinks, and I agree, that they ought to be looked at, anyway. Just to

be on the safe side."

I knew exactly what she was getting at. It had to do with my diabetes, and how I had to take precautions that other people

wouldn't necessarily have to worry about.

"Oh my gosh," I muttered.

Crane gave me a look in the rear view mirror. I flicked my glance away. He put the Jeep into motion, and drove

the short distance to the doctor office. When he'd parked, and turned off the engine, Hannah got out.

"Come on," she said to me, sounding brisk.

"So totally unnecessary," I said, stubborn to the end.

"Harlie," Crane said. It was short, and to the point. A quiet, but very stern reprimand. I met his eyes in the mirror

again. And then I got out, not saying anything more.

7

Dr. Meyer was busy, so he was brisk and efficient. He said my hands were healing, but slowly, and he prescribed something called

salicylate vasoline to put on them. After that, he talked to me about my diabetes. How I was managing it, and all of that. He's

a nice man, so I tried to answer his questions politely.

"Any problems since your last visit, then?" he was asking me.

"Not really."

"Low blood sugar episodes?"

I wondered if the time in the last week or so when I'd had a headache and then my level was low, and Evan and Ford had practically

stood over me while I ate a banana, was worth mentioning.

Hannah was sitting there quietly, but I knew she was thinking of it, too.

So, I did mention it.

That caused Dr. Meyer to go into his long spiel about how I needed to be vigilant at all times, etc. etc.

I was quiet on the way home. I felt tired, and wrung out. With sarcasm, I thought to myself, my, my, best not

show that I was tired! It would be attributed to the stupid diabetes, for sure.

The more I thought about it, the more irritated I got. Hannah, and Crane, too, had obviously known that I was

going to go to the doctor's today. They hadn't told me. They'd hidden it from me as though I was a little kid, or something.

I decided, not very maturely, that I wasn't going to talk to either one of them for a while. I helped carry in the groceries at

home. Mostly because Crane handed me a sack, and so I had no choice. As soon as we got into the kitchen, though, I set the

sack on the table, and went right back outside again.

I went to the barn, up in the hayloft, and laid on my back, looking up at the jagged streaks of sunshine coming

thru the places in the roof where there were spaces. Which needed to be repaired, is what my brothers were always saying.

I keep a book or two up in the loft, so that I'm always prepared if I want to hide out up there. Well, hide out is not the

right term. I wasn't hiding from anybody.

I was reading, lying on my stomach, when I heard my name, from right below the hayloft opening. I sighed, and

felt a bit of trepidation. I sat up, and scooted over to the opening, settling back on my knees, and looking down at Crane.

"Come on down," he said.

I sat there, perched as I was, on my knees, and looking at him. "I've done my chores," I told him.

"Good for you," he said, mildly enough. "Come down, please."

"Why didn't you or Hannah just tell me I was going to the doctor?" I burst out.

"So you could pitch two fits instead of one?" he asked sardonically.

"I wasn't," I protested. At his continued look up at me, I went on, "Pitching a fit. I wasn't."

"Come down here," he said again, and this time there was a new tone to his request. Or his order, rather. I sighed.

It takes a lot to tick Crane off. It really does. But, he was close to it now. I could tell.

"Okay," I said, getting to my feet, and going to climb down the ladder.

Once down at the bottom, he was there, waiting, at the open doorway of the barn.

"Come on," he said, and began walking. Out of the barn, and down the driveway. I followed along,

and started walking side by side with him.

Halfway down the driveway, I demanded, "Where are we going?"

"Just taking a walk," he said mildly.

"I wasn't unkind to Maizie," I preempted him. "You say I need to be more patient with people, and I was. I didn't tell her

what I really thought of her."

"Maybe you can change her mind. Educate her a little," Crane said.

I looked at him, a little puzzled.

"Isn't that what you want to do?" he asked then. "Try to give people new information that they may not

have heard before? About the preservation of the Mustangs?"

"Well, yeah," I said, after considering. "I mean, it would be good. Some people aren't going to want to listen, though-"

"Some will," he interrupted me.

"Yeah."

We walked in silence for a couple of minutes, and I couldn't help not feeling totally at ease. Crane hadn't taken me 'out walking'

for no reason.

"Is Hannah mad at me, too?" I spoke up.

When Crane looked at me in question, I went on, "I mean, if you think that I was snarky about going to the doctor, then she

probably does, too. And she's going to look at me, all disapproving, and think I'm not taking the diabetes seriously-." I let my voice

trail off.

"Harlie, why do you make everything so hard for yourself?" Crane asked, instead of responding to my comment.

I gave him a questioning look, not sure I wanted to know what he meant.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Making things what they don't have to be," Crane said, and he paused in his walking, turning to face me, his hands in the

pockets of his jeans.

I paused, too, looking up into his face, feeling uncomfortable.

"If you're feeling badly, health-wise, it's absolutely up to you to speak up, and ask for help," Crane said. "It's vital, and your

responsibility to do just that. On the other hand, when it's something that you don't consider concerning, like today, with your hands,

then you don't get to make the decisions. Sometime, though, you will. You'll be grown up, and able to decide whether or not you need medical

attention. But, until that time, it's our responsibility to look out for you, and make the decisions we think are right for you."

Wow. What a mouthful of lecturing words.

"Okay," I said, suddenly tired, and just wanting our conversation to be over with.

"Okay, what?" he asked.

"Okay. I get it. You all are the bosses, and I need to listen when you're looking out for my stupid diabetes."

"There you go," Crane said, in a disappointed tone.

"There I go, what?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Crane said, and now he sounded mostly stern, not kind.

I felt my face get all warm in embarrassment. I absolutely hate that! When my face gets all hot, and the person I'm talking to can

tell that I'm feeling embarrassed.

"No, I don't, Crane," I protested. "Honestly."

"You're giving me attitude and a smart answer, when neither one of those was necessary."

I hesitated, looking at him, and feeling at a loss for words.

"That's what I mean about making things harder for yourself," he went on.

I was done now. All I wanted to do was go up to my room, and lie down for awhile, with the door closed.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Crane looked at me, thoughtfully, and then he said, slowly, "What is it that you're sorry for, exactly?"

"For having attitude about going to the doctor. For making smartass comments. I'm sorry."

Crane stood, just giving me that same, contemplative gaze, never wavering, and not looking particularly

appeased.

"Anger or wishing, neither one make something go away, Harlie," he said.

I sighed. My brain was tired.

"Your diabetes isn't going anywhere," he continued.

"I know that," I said, feeling frustrated.

"Then why the fight, like today? About going to the doctor?" he asked.

"I-" I hesitated. I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said again.

For a long moment, I thought Crane was going to press on, keep lecturing, all of that. But, he didn't. He

nodded, and said, briefly, "Okay. We'll drop it for right now."

I was so grateful that I didn't even feel embarrassed any longer.

"Thanks," I said, really quietly.

"Just promise me you're going to do better. With listening, when we're worried about you," he went on. "And not be

so impatient with us."

"I promise to try," I said.

7

When Ivy came over, a little later on, to make a check on the cattle, she had the news of the burro's tests. He was healthy. Not

sick. I was standing outside with everybody when she said it, and I couldn't help the leap of happiness I felt inside. There. Now they

shouldn't mind that he came around. Well, I rethought that. Brian and Adam seemed as though they were going to have reservations

about him, regardless. But, still, at least he hadn't made the cattle sick.

Clare, standing there, as well, gave Brian's arm a pat. "That's good," she said. "Isn't it, Brian?"

"It's good," Brian allowed. Adam, meanwhile, didn't say anything. He only nodded, and then they got involved with the cattle,

checking over them. and discussing things.

I gave Clare a grateful look. She was trying to help smooth things out. That's what's so great about Clare.

Our cattle situation was grim. Better, but still grim. None of the other cattle were showing signs of illness, but the ones

that were sick were making varying degrees of a return to health. Some, you could hardly tell had been sick. Others, well, they

were still very obviously not recovering quickly.

I kept my joy about the burro 'close to the vest', as they say.

7

When Guthrie and I were out riding, making certain there were no cattle too far from the herd, we saw the Jack. He was

standing near a stand of trees, and, as we rode closer, I saw that he had the Jenny with him!

"Look, Guth!" I said, in excitement. "This is the first time I've seen her since the night she had the baby."

As we rode closer, though, and then paused, sitting on our horses, and watching the pair of burros, Guthrie argued

that it wasn't the same female burro.

"Yeah, it is," I argued.

"No," he maintained, pointing. "See that streak of white there? Around her neck? The other female didn't have that."

I rode up closer, and, as he followed, I turned back to tell him, "I think it's the same one."

"Nope," he insisted.

I turned to survey the burro 'couple' more closely. "I don't remember. Maybe she did have a streak of white like that."

"She didn't."

"I don't know how I wouldn't have noticed that marking," I said.

"Probably because you had your mind on what was going on, and were too excited," Guthrie pointed out.

"You make me sound like some dingy female," I complained.

I slid off of Charley. "Watch," I told Guthrie, and was able to walk right up to the Jack, and rub his head. Only for a moment, but still. The

Jenny, though, she took herself out of reach quickly.

"See?" I said, looking back to Guthrie. "He's really getting tame. You want to pet him?"

"Not now. Maybe later on."

"Okay." I gave the burro a final scratch, and came over to remount. "I wonder why he's with a different Jenny."

"Why not?" Guthrie countered.

I gave Guthrie a look, as he went on, "Gotta admire him. Havin' more than one girl."

I only rolled my eyes at him.

7

It was later that evening, well after supper, and after I'd talked to Lori on the phone for a long time. I went out to the barn,

toting my saddle, and beginning to polish it.

It was already dusk, and I turned on the lights in the barn.

It was while I was busy, rubbing, and polishing, that Brian came into the barn. He had a claw-foot hammer in his hand.

"Hey there, peach," he greeted me.

"Hey."

Brian went to hang the hammer on the pegboard, where the tools are kept, and then walked over to stand beside me.

"Guthrie says you saw the burro today, while you were out riding."

"Yeah. We did," I said, looking up to meet his eyes.

Brian nodded, but didn't continue on that. I would have told him about the different female, but I didn't think that

this was a subject that he and I should really elaborate on.

He surprised me by his next words, though.

"I'm glad the burro wasn't the cause of our cattle problems." As I searched his face, he said, "I'm real glad about it. I am."

"Me, too," I said, thinking that this was where he and I would reach a mutual understanding of the burros.

"The thing is, though," he began, and I felt my hopes fall. "He's still a wild thing. He's not a pet."

Since I did, already, think of the Jack as a pet, of sorts, I didn't answer immediately.

"He's been free all of his life," Brian went on. "He, and all the other ones, their place isn't bein' domesticated."

I put down my cloth that I'd been using, and said, directly, "He just likes hanging around. It's not such a horrible thing, if he does, is

it, Bri?"

My tone was respectful, I made sure of that, but there was a bit of pleading in there, as well.

"No," Brian said slowly. "It's not that it's a horrible thing. I'm worried that you're gonna get disappointed, though. Let down."

"Why?"

"Because he's likely to take it into his head to disappear one day, just as fast as he first came," Brian said.

"I don't think he will," I said, and realized how stubborn I sounded. "I don't mean to sass you, Bri. I just don't think

he would just leave."

Brian was quiet for a long few moments, our eyes meeting, and then he nodded briefly. "Well, time will tell on that, I guess."

7

The next morning I went out early, to run my barrels, and look about a bit for the burro, but he was nowhere in sight.

Later, I went to town with Evan and Guthrie, when they went to pick up some feed, and fencing supplies. Evan had said

he would treat Guthrie and I to a malt or something at the Dairy Kurl, so I made certain that I ate healthy for breakfast.

Oatmeal.

It was while we were at the feed store, that all the talk centered around, of course, the Mustangs, and the arrests.

I tried to tune it all out. I was tired of hearing about it. I just wished they would find all the dumbasses who had

chased the horses and the burros, and then it would be done.

I browsed around the store, looking at stuff on the shelves, as Evan was paying for the feed. Eventually, though,

the voices of the older ranchers reached me, even though I was trying to avoid it all.

And then, I heard one of them, a long-time rancher in the area, Myron Stroup, say that he'd shot a couple of

the burros, when they'd come down and were eating on his winter hay that he had stored.

I had enough presence of mind to put the bright purple halter that I'd been looking at back onto the shelf,

and then I went to exit the store. Fast. I walked right past Evan, who was still at the counter, paying, and past Guthrie,

who was getting gum from the gumball machine. I pushed the door open, hard and fast, making the bells over the top

jingle.

I went to sit on a bench just outside the door, breathing in and out, and trying to get a grip on my emotions.

Guthrie appeared beside me. "What's wrong, Har?" he asked.

"Didn't you hear?" I demanded, trying hard not to cry.

"Hear what?"

"He shot two of the burros!" I said, and now my eyes did fill with tears.

"Who did?" Guthrie asked, looking perplexed.

"How could you not hear him? He was bragging about it! That-Mr. Stroup! He shot two of the wild burros!"

Guthrie looked shocked, and then he wrinkled his forehead, and said, "I didn't hear him. I guess I wasn't payin'

attention-"

"It doesn't matter," I said. I sat there, staring off into space, as trucks and cars passed by, and hanging on

by a thread to my control.

"Why did he do that?" Guthrie asked then, still sounding shocked.

"He said they were eating his winter hay, or something," I muttered.

A sudden, horrible thought occurred to me then. I'd been thinking in general terms of the herd of burros.

"What if it's my burro that he shot?" I said, getting to my feet, and literally shaking.

"I'm sure it's not him," Guthrie began.

"You don't know that!"

Evan came out then, heading towards his truck. "We've got to pull around to load up," he said, and paused

beside us. He'd obviously heard what had been said inside the feed store.

"You heard what he said, huh?" he asked me quietly.

I nodded, looking at him in misery.

"Come on," he said, looking sympathetic, but determined. He put a hand in the center of my back, and steered me

towards the truck.

I climbed up and into the center of the truck seat, as they each got into their respective spots, as well. Evan drove around

to the side, and backed up to the loading dock. He and Guthrie both got out, and up into the back of the truck, as the employee at the

store began tossing sacks of feed to them, while they stacked.

I sat there, feeling miserable, and sad, and staring out the windshield. When Guthrie and Evan were finished, and back

in the cab of the truck, Evan started the motor, but then we just sat, without moving.

7


	81. Trail boss

There was a silence between the three of us, as we sat there in the feed store parking lot.

"Let's get a chocolate shake," Evan said, putting the truck in gear, and pulling out onto the street.

"Strawberry," Guthrie said.

"Okay. Strawberry," Evan said. "What do you want, Har?"

I shook my head in refusal, but said nothing.

Once at the Dari Kurl, Evan parked, the lot nearly empty. It didn't take long for the car hop to come to take our

orders.

Evan told Bets to bring a strawberry, and two chocolate shakes, and when she'd gone, he said, quietly, "Myron's always

been a little trigger happy."

Trigger happy? The man had shot two burros, whose only crime had been hunger. I didn't think 'trigger happy' quite

described Mr. Stroup's sins.

"Har's worried that it's her burro that was shot," Guthrie spoke up quietly, leaning forward a bit.

I didn't even look towards Evan. "Here's where you tell me that he's not my burro. Right?" I said.

"He's not your burro," Evan said. "But, I wasn't gonna say that, no."

The shakes were being delivered. Evan handed one to Guthrie, and then one to me.

"You should have saved your money," I told him. "It doesn't even sound good."

"Drink a little of it," Evan said. And then, he said, "I'm pretty sure it wasn't your burro. The burro that's been

hanging around, I mean."

Instantly, he had my full attention. I twisted to look at him. "Why don't you think it is?" I asked hopefully.

"I asked Myron what the burros that he shot looked like," Evan said.

For a moment, I was struck by the pure kindness of Evan doing that. He'd asked, so as to see if it was the burro that had

been visiting our place, and ease my mind.

"You did? What did he say?"

"He said they were both real tall, and nearly all black," Evan said.

I felt relief wash over me. And hope. My burro wasn't very tall, and he was mostly a dark brown.

"Maybe it wasn't him, then," I said.

"He'll probably turn up in the next day or so," Evan said.

"Yeah." I took a couple of long drinks of my shake. "That doesn't mean that Myron Stroup isn't the lowest form

of human life. Shooting two innocent burros-"

"I'm not sayin' he's right, doing what he did," Evan said. "It's brutal. But, the ranchers feel justified in keeping

their winter supplies protected."

"Couldn't he have just scared them off?" I said. "He didn't have to shoot them."

7

Once at home, I dived into my chores, and then went to run my barrels again. Anything to stay busy, and try to quiet

my raging feelings.

Evan came walking up, and hopped up on one of the barrels, watching me. I ran a couple more rounds, having to steer way

around the barrel he was sitting on.

"Better," he told me, when I pulled Petra to a halt.

"How am I supposed to get a good time, when you're sitting on one of the barrels?" I pointed out.

I leaned forward to pat Petra's neck.

"You've been cryin'," Evan said. More in statement than in question.

"Yeah," I said, without an attempt to deny.

"Crying won't change anything. It won't bring the burros back," he pointed out.

"It's not like I have a lot of other choices," I said. "I'll cry today, and then I'll stop."

"What if you did have another choice?" Evan asked.

I flicked a glance over his face. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"You asked me about moving the burros, back up to where they'd be safe," he said.

I felt my hopes rise, and my eyes widen. I waited.

"I've thought about it. I think we can do it. We can try, anyway," he said.

I could hardly swallow. I felt tears spring to my eyes again.

"When?" I asked.

"Well, tomorrow's no good. Too much to do. And, we'd need to get some supplies together. All of that. So-" Evan paused,

looking thoughtful. "How about day after tomorrow? Early."

"Day after tomorrow would be great," I said, still feeling a lump of emotion in my throat.

"Okay. Start figuring out some food and stuff. We'll be out overnight."

"Okay."

We regarded each other for a long few moments, neither one of us saying anything.

I was full of words, but couldn't seem to find them just then.

"It may not work, for whatever reason," Evan cautioned. "They might not stay up there, or they might scatter and

run from us. Lots of things could happen. But, we can try."

"Yeah," I said, in agreement.

"Okay." He hopped down from the barrel. "I better get back to work."

"Ev-" I said, and he paused, looking up at me, from my spot on Petra's back.

"What?"

"I don't know what to say-" I said, in gratefulness.

"You don't have to say anything," he told me. "If it works, then you can make me oatmeal-raisin cookies

every other day for a month."

"Deal," I said.

7

As I prepared, and Evan rounded up help for our 'burro-rescue' trek, I kept my eye out for the Jack. But, no sign of him.

I still had the fear that he'd been one of those that had been shot, despite what Evan had reported.

Adam said he'd feel better, about us all going up there, once he got an all-clear from the sheriff's office. When he called,

and talked with Hal personally, he was told that they had made final arrests, and that the case was on its way to being settled. He

was interested, Adam said, in what we were doing. And wished us good luck.

Hannah entered into the spirit of our jaunt, making some homemade snacks that would be easier to carry. Cookies, and Rice Krispy

bars. Kristin was recruited to come along, and with Evan, Ford, Guthrie and I, that made five. There was the

thorny problem, at least to Hannah and Adam, of Kristin going along, with no older female chaperone. To all of us, she

was like one of the family. But, technically, as Hannah pointed out, her mother would surely prefer that she not accompany

us, without proper supervision, with all males, besides me.

Evan made it known that he would make sure that Guthrie and Kristin abided by the same rules as they did at our house, and

there would be little time or energy for 'fooling around'. That didn't satisfy Hannah. She still felt it wasn't right.

Guthrie tried, as did I, to tell Hannah that Kristin's mother wouldn't care. She didn't have much energy to expend on Kristin.

But, Hannah maintained her position, and at one point in the conversation, Adam intervened.

"We'll figure something out, or Kristin doesn't go," he told us.

"Okay," Guthrie said, hopping down from the kitchen counter. "But, like what?"

"Well, I don't think I can go," Hannah said, and Adam quickly agreed. "No."

"What about Clare?" I suggested. "I'll bet she would come."

I looked towards Brian, who was in the kitchen, as well. "Don't you think she would, Bri?"

"She might," Brian said, not sounding entirely convinced. "She's got a class early that morning, though."

"Nancy will do it," Evan said, pulling the jug of milk from the refrigerator.

And so, with that, the decision was made.

7

And so, it was six of us that set out the next morning. All of us armed with food, water, and a firm resolve. Nancy had the

first aid kit, and Ford, Evan and Guthrie all had a rifle, and plenty of ammunition. I chose Charley to ride, versus Petra. Petra is

great on things such as running barrels, but for something like this, I felt better having a horse that was steady, and dependable. Not

flighty.

We were all up and ready to leave before five that morning. Adam was up, as was Hannah, making sure we set off with

a full breakfast. Adam walked with us as we saddled our horses, and loaded all the supplies.

I kept an eye out for my burro, as we rode, but the further we went, the less likely I felt it was to see him. And then,

he was there. We'd been riding for nearly an hour or more, and Guthrie spotted him, giving a whistle to catch my attention,

and pointing him out.

I was so relieved to see him. I rode on, and pulled an apple from my bags, leaning down from Charley's back to feed it

to the burro. I still wondered where the Jenny had gotten to.

Evan galloped over, and pulled his horse to a halt. "So, he's alright," he said.

"Yeah," I said, my relief evident.

"That's good," he said, quietly. Then, "Come on. We don't have time for you to hand feed him apples all day."

7

The burro followed us for awhile, then seemed to disappear. Even Guthrie was puzzled. "Where'd he go?" he asked, looking

backward. "It's like he's some sort of Ninja burro, or somethin'."

"Maybe he is magic," I said, with a grin.

And still, later, the magic myth continued, as the burro reappeared. He followed us, until we came successfully up onto

the herd of wild burros. They were grazing, on much shortened grass, and we kept our distance, pulling to a stop to collaborate.

"It's nearly lunchtime," Evan said. "Let's eat, and then we'll start rounding them up. We'll eat cold now and then

tonight we'll have a fire and a hot meal."

So, we got off, with everybody stretching their legs, and walking a bit. We ate cold fried chicken, that Nancy had carried, kept

from spoiling with an ice pack. We finished it up with fruit, and I gave my Jack another apple. He was midway between where we

sat to eat, and the grazing herd of burros. Not quite of us, and not quite of them, either.

"Is he going to follow us all the way?" Kristin asked, and as the boys were answering her, I realized that if he did that,

that he might stay up there, and not come around the ranch any longer. The thought made me pause, and feel sad. But, the most important

thing, I told myself, was that he be safe.

7

Once we began, trying to herd the burros, it turned out to be a different experience. Even for me, and I'm used to herding

cattle. I couldn't imagine how Kristin felt. She'd never done anything like this before. But, the burros weren't like cattle. They

skittered and ran, and when retrieved, would bide their time and make another break for it. At one point, Kristin was near tears,

because she felt as though she wasn't doing her share in keeping them from getting past her.

I gave her a pep talk, and so did Guthrie, but I noticed when Nancy talked to her, she seemed to brace up, and was ready

to continue.

It was a long afternoon, made tougher by the incline as we started herding them up.

It got rougher, both to ride, and to herd. My burro, as I thought of him, joined the herd, and went along with us.

I'd tried to figure out which, if any, of the females, was the Jenny that had given birth. But, it was just too hard to identify,

with all those furry brown and black bodies milling all together.

We stopped at one point, letting them bunch together, while Evan told us to take a chance to stretch again. Kristin looked

grateful, and slipped off our mare, Peg.

"Wow," she said, and I knew exactly what she meant.

"I've got some salve with me," I said, in a low tone.

"I don't want to be a wimp," Kristin said.

"You're doing fantastic," I encouraged.

"You are, Kristin," Evan chimed in, walking near us. "You're doing great."

Kristin looked a little embarrassed, but I could tell she was pleased. "Thanks, Evan," she said.

Evan smiled at her, then said, brusquely, "Break's over. Mount up, group."

"The power has gone to his head," Ford said to us, sotto voice, and we laughed.

7

After that, Ford took to calling Evan 'Trail Boss', in a teasing sort of way. Instead of getting irritated, Evan

said, "It's about time I got some respect around here."

When we reached the interior of the canyon, it was late in the afternoon, and I was hoping that we would see

some remaining Mustangs, but we didn't. I wondered where those that were left had gone.

Once there, we gave a few 'yee-haws' and some hat waving, and the burros scattered into the hugeness of the canyon.

"Now what?" Nancy asked, as we all dismounted, trying to work out the stiffness.

"Now, we build a fire, and fix some food," Evan said.

"So cave-man like, and handsome, too," Nancy said, squeezing Evan's arm, and they began kissing. Not like, all involved or anything,

but Guthrie still protested, "Hey! Knock that stuff off. Besides, I thought you two were supposed to be chaperones and the

good influences on this little trip." He reached over and took Kristin's hand, and she giggled, looking embarrassed.

We gathered firewood, small sticks and branches, really, and the boys built a fire. After that, Nancy took charge of

heating up some beans and added some brown sugar into it. While that was bubbling and getting hot, we pulled out the

rest of the food. Some chips, and fruit, including canned peaches. We sat on the ground around the fire to eat, leaning on our

saddles, and after we were done, Nancy gathered up all our plates and forks, washing them with water from the canteen.

She bustled around, humming, shaking out blankets and bedrolls, and in general 'tidying up' our little camp.

I found it sort of amusing. It was like she was tending to all of us, and making our camp 'homey'.

After we'd eaten, Guthrie and Kristin and I walked out amongst the burros from the herd that were still nearby. Some had

found spots to graze further out, but still within sight.

My Jack was with the nearby burros, and I brought out the apple I'd carried, and gave it to him. He consented to having

all three of us rub his forehead, before joining the other burros.

"He sure has gotten tame," Guthrie said.

"This is amazing," Kristin said, looking around the canyon and at the burros.

Once we'd settled down for the night, Kristin admitted to being saddle sore.

"It gets better," Nancy told her.

As we sat around the fire, we brought out Hannah's Rice Krispy treats, and munched away, telling stories. I fell asleep looking

up at the stars. A California sky at night.

7


	82. On the road

The next morning, I was woken by two major factors. The urge to pee. And the clatter of Nancy as she was making breakfast.

I opened one eye to peer at her. Ford was beside me, pulling on his boots. Guthrie and Evan's spots were vacant, and Kristin was

still sleeping, her long hair spread out over her bedroll.

"How is a person supposed to sleep, with you making all that racket?" I told Nancy.

"They're not," she quipped. "They're supposed to be up already."

I scrambled out of my sleeping bag, and went to the nearest mass of bushes to pee, walking across the dew-wet grass

in my bare feet.

Ford passed me, on his way towards where the horses were tied. He gave me a good-natured shove.

"Morning."

"Good morning, Fordie," I said, and he gave a protesting, "Hey," at my endearment.

At the fire, I poured myself a cup of coffee, sitting down to watch Nancy in her efficient breakfast preparations. I gave

Kristin a poke with my foot. As Kristin began to stretch and stir around, I finished my coffee, and was already eating my

bacon and biscuits, when the boys came back.

The boys were suitably impressed, and appreciative of the biscuits, which Nancy said she'd made at home, and carried along.

Cold they were, but really good.

"How are they doing this morning?" I asked, speaking of the burros.

"They seem to be settling in," Evan reported.

"Is there a way to make sure they stay up here?" Kristin asked.

"Not really," Evan told her.

"Lots of hope," Nancy said.

7

We left the canyon around mid-morning. I was reluctant to leave, in a way. I was glad the burros were up here, but

also concerned that they wouldn't stay put. Although, I tried to reason with myself, why wouldn't they? The grass here was

lush again. And they would be safe here now, without anybody trying to chase them. Still, it was hard. I had gone to stand

where I could look out and see them all, back where they belonged.

I heard boot steps scraping behind me, and Evan stood beside me, looking out, as well.

"They look good," he said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "They do." I sighed a little.

"We've done all we can for 'em, Har," he said, and I heard a bit of cautionary in his tone.

I nodded, full of feelings as I looked out over them. "I know."

"Come on," he said, tapping my arm. "We need to be headin' back." He turned to walk away, and I

looked once more, and then walked over to where the Jack stood, at the edge of the herd.

I pulled an apple from my jacket pocket, (it was still cool up here at this time of day), and held it out to him. He took it

from my hand, bit into it, letting pieces dribble out of his mouth.

I scratched behind his ear. "You'll be safe up here," I told him. "And you'll have friends, and plenty to eat." He

gave me a look, and I said softly, "No more apples up here, though, huh, boy? I bet you'll miss your apples."

He continued chewing, watching me, and I reached out, close enough to give his head a short hug.

"Goodbye, fella," I said. "Maybe I'll come up and see you sometime, okay?"

When I walked away, I felt as though I had a lump in my throat. I pressed my face into Charley's neck, and

felt a hand on my shoulder, and then a gentle pat of encouragement.

"He'll be alright," Ford said softly.

"I know," I said, wiping at my eyes furiously. "It's dumb to cry over it."

"Not dumb," Ford denied. He gave my shoulder a squeeze with his hand, and then went to mount his horse.

There was some laughter on the way down, jokes being tossed back and forth, as we rode single file at certain

points.

As we unsaddled our horses at home, and put the tack away, Adam came walking from the house to greet us.

"How did it go?" he asked, and everybody started talking. Nancy and Kristin were both animated, with Kristin

talking so much that Adam grinned at her.

"I've never heard you string so many words together at one time, young lady," he told Kristin, and she

smiled back at him.

"I'll go in and see Hannah for a bit," Nancy said, giving Evan's arm a pat.

"Your mama wants you to head home," Adam told Kristin then, and she looked immediately subdued.

"Go on and run her home, Guth," he told Guthrie.

Guthrie looked less than happy, but he said, "Okay. You wanna come with, Har?"

"No," I said, and then added, "Thanks. Call me later, Kristin."

Kristin went inside to gather up her things, Ford took Charley's reins from me. "I'll take him for ya," he told me.

That left me, standing there with Evan and Adam.

Adam's gaze lit on me, his eyes taking me in. "How are you?" he asked, quietly.

"Good."

"Feeling alright? No blood sugar crashes?"

"No." I met his eye. "I'm fine, Adam."

"Physically, anyway," he said, and I knew he was referring to my emotions about the burros. "Right?"

There was no use to deny it. "Right," I said.

Adam reached out and gave Evan's shoulder a rub, and then ran his other hand over my hair. "You did a good thing, helping

the burros. I'm proud of both of you."

Evan, always uncomfortable with much praise, said, "It's like I told Har. It may work, and it may not."

Adam tightened his hold on Evan's shoulder. "Still a good thing, Ev."

Evan nodded, and gave a half-grin, and led his horse towards the pasture gate.

"Did you see the Jack, the one that's been hanging around here?" Adam asked me.

"Yes. He went up with us."

"He stayed?" Adam asked, sounding surprised.

I nodded.

"Well," Adam said. "That's good, then. He'll be safer up there."

I nodded again, unhappily, in agreement.

Adam surveyed me for a long few moments, reading my emotions, I knew. He can do that.

He pulled me into his side, and wrapped his arms around me. "It's tough bein' a crusader, isn't it, sugar?"

7

The news began to trickle in, in the next couple of days. Frank had pleaded guilty to being the driver of

one of the trucks that had chased and rounded up the Mustangs. He'd been a part of destroying the fences, driving them down.

It was the general consensus that he'd been 'cheap hire', working mostly for drinking money. He would serve time, probably

not very long.

A few of the younger men of the group, including the one that had been friends with Daniel in high school, had also been

'underlings', taking orders from higher up. They were likely to be charged with malicious trespassing, and other things about

being on state park land. I didn't understand all of it. They'd done their share of talking, though, and given the names of the

men who'd been responsible for shooting our cattle and that of one of our other neighbors. Shooting the cattle had been

an act of threatening us, trying to instill more fear. As had the men who'd sat on Ford's truck hood in town that day. And as

the two men who'd come over to our house, supposedly looking for work. All had been an intent to intimidate us.

The main people, the leaders, weren't local men. They'd had quite a set up going. Good money being brought in, by

selling the Mustangs to the factories.

The sheriff's office, working with the Parks and Recreation group, estimated that there had been over two hundred or more

Mustangs rounded up and sold, made into glue, or dog food. There weren't many left in our area.

Seth, of course, had been a part of it, as well. He'd staked out our line cabin, early on in the summer, and

let the others know where fences were at there and other spots. He'd helped destroy the fences. He'd been part of

the group in our field, the night that Warrior bit Kenny.

Ah, and Kenny. He'd been the only one under the age of 18 in the group. He'd hung around the older guys, and gotten

to know them that way, and then increased his drinking. He'd helped destroy the fences. He'd stolen some tools from

neighbor's barns. He'd shown the others the easiest ways to get in and out of the area. He'd helped chase the Mustangs down

and round them up.

For his part in it, the trespassing, the theft, the destruction of private property, Kenny had been sentenced to

three months in a juvenile facility. After the three months were up, he would be on probation, and do some community service.

If he completed everything, he would not have a record, to plague his start to adulthood.

The judge had found someplace better than an impersonal facility. It was a sort of a boy's ranch type of place.

Near Fresno. Run by a couple who had a license in foster care. The man was a retired police officer, and had worked with teens in

trouble for years. They operated the place on their own property, a sprawling acreage with lots of animals. The boys

were kept on tight schedules, and had lots of chores to do, with few privileges, and close supervision.

We learned all this about Kenny from his parents. Guthrie had taken to going over to their house every few days, to

talk, and help with anything that needed doing. He told me that when he went there, that Kenny's mother doted on him,

feeding him up, and that he thought it helped her to have him visit.

"It makes me feel sort of weird, though," Guthrie confided in me, as we were sitting outside one evening, at the picnic

table, sharing a watermelon with Ford.

"How come?" Ford asked, spitting out a seed.

"I dunno," Guthrie said, looking thoughtful. "Like she talks as if Kenny's gonna be right home, and that everything

will be fine again. It feels sometimes, almost, as if she's wishing that I was Kenny."

At Ford and I's shocked expressions, Guthrie shrugged. "I told you it was weird."

Guthrie reached for another slice of watermelon. "I'd stop goin' over there, but she seems to be so happy when I come. I figure

it's the least I can do for them. And for Kenny."

When we went inside later that night, Guthrie and I sat at the kitchen table with Adam and Brian for a long time, talking.

Guthrie told them what he'd already told Ford and I.

"I'm glad you're going over there, Guth," Brian said quietly.

"I am, too," Adam agreed. "It shows real character on your part."

Guthrie shrugged. "Kenny's folks have always been nice to me. This has really got them beat down. With his dad's cancer

and everything-" Guthrie let his voice trail off.

After a few minutes of companionable silence at the table, Guthrie spoke again. "I thought I'd go see Kenny."

"When were you thinking to go?" Adam asked him.

"I was thinkin', maybe tomorrow morning, since it's a three hour drive. If you can spare me around here."

Adam and Brian exchanged one of their infamous 'talk without words' looks.

"We can spare you," Adam said. He hesitated, looking at Guthrie intently. "Are you sure, Guth?" he asked.

Guthrie nodded. "I'm sure."

"Well, then, take somebody with you," Adam continued.

"I thought I'd ask Crane," Guthrie said then.

Adam nodded in approval, and Brian said, "That's good."

"Are you sure Kenny's allowed visitors?" Brian asked.

"They do like a point system thing," Guthrie said, in explanation. "If they don't mess up, they get their points, and

can have visitors and phone calls and stuff. Kenny's mom called up yesterday and they said he could

have visitors. Not long. Just a an hour or so in the morning."

"Okay," Brian said.

"It's a long drive," Adam commented.

"I know," Guthrie agreed. "But-I feel like I need to go, Adam."

Adam nodded briefly. "I get it."

Guthrie turned to me, and surprised me by asking, "Do you want to come along, Har?"

I was so surprised that I didn't answer immediately. Surprised that Guthrie had invited me

for one thing, after all my snide comments about Kenny, and then about him, and how he was

dealing with Kenny.

"Well," I hesitated, "I can. Do you really want me to?"

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to. But, Kenny's always liked you. He'd probably

like to see somebody besides just me. I could ask Trent, instead," he said, and then finished by

saying, "But, yeah, if you wanna go, I'd like it if you did."

I looked towards Adam and Brian, who were both looking as if they didn't think it was the

best of ideas.

"Can I?" I asked, including them both.

"Are you sure you want to?" Brian asked. "I mean-with what went down between you and Kenny, it

might not be like an old-home week reunion."

"Right," Adam said, in agreement.

"Kenny and I talked that day-the day he came over with his parents," I reminded them. "He

apologized to me, about Warrior. I believe him."

"Uh huh," Adam said, looking thoughtful.

"I won't shoot my mouth off at Kenny," I said quietly. "I'll just go along for moral support."

They exchanged another look, and Brian shrugged lightly.

"Alright," Adam said. "If Guthrie wants you to go, then it's okay by me."

7

That night, after supper, I went out to the pasture, hanging out by the fence. I wished I would look

up and see the Jack there. With the Jenny, or just by himself. I missed seeing his furry face. I wished

that he hadn't followed along with us to the canyon with the other burros. I knew he was safer there,

and all that, but the common sense part of my brain was overcome by my heart's wishes.

7

When I headed inside, I was startled by Brian's voice. I turned quickly to see him sitting in one of

the metal chairs, just to the other side of the picnic table, with Clare sitting beside him.

"Oh, hi," I said, in reply to him, walking over to where they sat.

"No sign of him, huh?" Brian asked then, and I looked at him in surprise. Had it been that obvious

to him that I'd been hoping for the sight of the burro?

"No," I said.

Brian hesitated, just for the slightest of moments, and then he said, "I know it's hard for you,

peach. But it's probably for the best."

I nodded in acknowledgement of his comment.

Clare gave me a smile, meant to encourage, I knew. "Sit down with us," she coaxed. So, I did, for awhile.

We didn't discuss the burros then, or the Mustangs, or any of that. Clare regaled Brian and I with tales

from the class she was taking, and how one of the students had knocked a skeleton used for demonstration

completely over, and the different bones went everywhere.

7

The next morning, right after breakfast, Crane and Guthrie and I set out for Fresno. Guthrie had offered to

drive, but Crane said since it was such a long one, that he would take the small pickup that he'd bought

the month before. It gets better gas mileage than Guthrie's gas guzzler, and Crane said he would take

care of paying for the gas and springing for lunch later on.

I had my usual supply of snacks that I carry, granola bars, stuffed in a sack, and I put them in the

glove compartment.

At first, we didn't talk too much. It was still early. The sun was only just coming up.

Once we were on the freeway, there seemed to be an awfully lot of traffic. I commented on it,

and Crane said it was all the people heading into the city to work.

"I'd hate to have to be in this every morning," I said, watching as cars zig zagged in and out of

one another.

"Exactly why I don't drive it every day," Crane said, in agreement, moving out ahead of a couple

other cars.

After that, we talked about the start of school. Nothing major, just casual stuff. Guthrie had most

of his credits already for graduation, so he was planning to take another shop class, and Crane was

encouraging him to take an ag class, as well.

Guthrie was fairly quiet, though, the further along that we drove, and I knew he was thinking

about Kenny. And what he was going to say to him, probably.

Crane sensed Guthrie's preoccupation, too, because he got quiet, and turned the radio to

country music.

We made it to Fresno, and Guthrie handed the address that was written on a slip of paper to Crane.

Crane pulled over in a store parking lot to read it, and then handed it back to Guthrie, and began

driving again. He seemed to have a relatively good idea of where he was going. It took about twenty

minutes after that to locate the road that led to the boy's ranch.

There was a wooden sign proclaiming that we'd reached the correct place. There were

horses in a field to the right, and even llamas.

"Look," I said, pointing them out. "Llamas!"

Further ahead, we could see chicken coops, with chickens and ducks pecking at the grass for bugs.

"There must be two hundred chickens," I guessed.

There were boys everywhere. In the fields. Near the chickens. On the porches of various buildings. Just

everywhere. They seemed to be walking around freely, though it was obvious they were doing chores. And,

too, there were quite a few adults walking about, as well.

"What if they just wanted to run off?" I supposed, aloud. "It seems as though it would be easy."

"They wouldn't get far," Crane said.

We pulled up in front of a house, at least it resembled a house, though it had been built onto many

times, and was sort of odd-shaped.

"Is this where we go in, do you think?" Guthrie asked Crane. I could tell that Guthrie was really nervous. He

kept popping his knuckles. And even when they wouldn't pop any more, he kept pushing them as if they would.

"I'm not sure," Crane said. "We can try." He got out and I slid out after him, while Guthrie got out more

slowly, closing the truck door.

Before we'd made it halfway up the front steps, a man came from the house. A big man. He was even

taller than Crane, and probably outweighed him by 75 pounds or more.

"Howdy," he greeted us. "I'm Ian Blaine."

Crane and the man shook hands. "Crane McFadden," Crane said, introducing himself. He gestured to

Guthrie and I. "Harlie, and Guthrie. My sister and brother."

"Well, now," the man said, shaking both Guthrie and I's hands, too, "What can I do for you all?"

Crane looked to Guthrie, plainly giving him the opportunity to speak for himself.

"I came to see Kenny," Guthrie said. "Kenny Harris. His mother said she was going to call-and set up

the visit-"

"Yes, yes," the man said. "Kenny. Well, he's around here somewhere. We'll find him. Walk along with me."

He stepped off the porch, and began walking, Crane beside him, and Guthrie and I behind a bit.

As he walked, Mr. Blaine talked. He pointed out things. The pond for fishing. The barn that had just

been built the year before. The off-white building which was the place where all the boys had their

meals.

"It's just about time for lunch, isn't it?" he said, and then went on talking without waiting for any reply.

"We have set schedules here. We find that it helps the boys, knowing what to expect and when. We're strict

about our schedules." He went on, explaining to Crane how the ranch operated, and how all the boys there

had chores they were required to do. He briefly touched on the subject of the points system, saying that

the boys could accumulate points for privileges, such as fishing, phone calls to home, and visitors. There

was, he said, no television at the ranch.

Guthrie and I exchanged a look. Not that we watched that much television ourselves. But, to have NO

television. Wow.

And having to earn points before you could go fishing? Or talk to any of your family at home? Harsh.

"What are the majority of the boys here for?" Crane was asking.

"Many reasons," Mr. Blaine said. "None of them good. If they end up here, it's because they had a judge

that thought they deserved a placement before jail. These boys are the lucky ones. Though they don't always

see it that way."

He went on, "We have boys who are here for burglary, or stealing a car for a joy ride. Many are truant,

or drug users."

Mr. Blaine slowed his steps, looking back at Guthrie. "You've been friends with young Kenny for a

good long while, I understand."

"Yes, sir," Guthrie said.

"Since elementary school, Kenny says," Mr. Blaine continued.

"Yes, sir," Guthrie said, again.

"We like young Kenny here. " He turned back to Crane. "We're hoping that his time here benefits him,

and aids in his future choices."

"We hope so, too," Crane said quietly.

As another boy walked by, carrying a pail of animal feed, Mr. Blaine asked him where Kenny might be.

"Kenny's helping unload the hay," the other boy said.

"Thanks, Tommy. Come this way," Mr. Blaine said, walking on.

"How many boys do you have here?" Crane asked.

"At any given time, we can have thirty to fifty boys here. They're housed in the dormitories there," he said,

pointing. "We have 'house' parents, who monitor the boys in their buildings, and sleep there, as well."

"Here we are," he said jovially, as we reached the barn. Bales of hay were being tossed by boys on

a hay wagon to boys standing high, on stacks of other hay bales.

Kenny was one of the boys up in the eaves of the barn. When Mr. Blaine called out his name,

he looked down. And, when he saw us standing there, his face lit up like a ray of sunshine.

7

ONE more chapter to go with this saga of the McFadden family!


	83. Road to acceptance

"Come on down, and talk with your guests," Mr. Blaine called up to Kenny. The other boys in

the barn paused, giving the three of us their attention as well. I got the feeling that visitors were not all

that common here.

One boy, standing just to the left of me, gave me a slow smile. "Hi," he said.

"Hi."

"Are you from around here?" he asked me, then.

I started to tell him no, when Mr. Blaine turned and said sharply, "Ben, you've got work

to complete. Continue with it."

The boy looked hugely embarrassed, and ducked his head, going back to hoisting the square bales.

I felt sorry for him. He'd only been saying hello to me.

Kenny had scrambled down from his perch on the hay, leaving his hay hook above.

"Hi," he greeted us. "Hey, Harlie. Hey, Crane."

Crane and I both returned the greeting, and Kenny turned to face Guthrie, square on.

"Hey, Guth."

Guthrie bobbed his head a bit. "Hey, Kenny," he said, in sort of a stilted way.

I realized that they hadn't seen one another since the time that Kenny left our house in the wee hours

of the morning. After Guthrie had let him sleep it off in the basement. They'd had that fight, and harsh words,

and Guthrie had shoved Kenny. Twice. Of course, Kenny had tried to see Guthrie. When he'd come by our house with

his parents that morning. But, Guthrie had avoided him.

"It is," Mr. Blaine said, looking at his wrist watch, "Nearly eleven. You may visit with your

company until the lunch gong rings, Kenny, and then you will come to the cafeteria. You may

use the courtyard for your visit."

"Yes, sir," Kenny said.

Mr. Blaine shook Crane's hand again, and nodded to Guthrie and I. "Safe journeys home," he said,

and walked away.

Left there, with Kenny, there was a bit of an awkward silence.

Bless Crane. He said, "Where's this courtyard at, Kenny?"

"Oh. This way," Kenny said, gesturing. We walked the short distance to the courtyard, which was really just

an area with lots of flowers and a circular metal table with curved benches.

Crane looked to Guthrie. "You want me and Harlie to walk around a bit, while you and Kenny talk, Guthrie?"

"No," Guthrie said, quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, you can stay for awhile if you want."

Guthrie was clearly uneasy, and Crane made it smoother by simply saying, "Sure," and sitting down

on one of the benches.

I sat down beside Crane, while Kenny and Guthrie both stood there, as though they didn't know what

to do, or say.

"Sit down, boys," Crane told them, and they both took a seat across the table from Crane and I.

There was silence then, until Crane took charge of the conversation, leading it with questions for Kenny

about how was the food here? And had he had a chance to talk with his parents on the phone?

Kenny responded by saying that the food was alright, but nowhere near as good as his mother's cooking. And that he'd been

able to talk to his parents a couple of times, on the average of once a week.

"Why only once a week?" I asked curiously.

"They do things here on a points system," Kenny explained, unaware that we'd already heard about that. "So it takes about

ten points to get to have a ten minute phone call with somebody. Points are hard to come by around here. So I usually only

have one call a week."

"Besides," he continued, "It's pretty rough on Mom when we talk on the phone. So, I don't like to put her thru it, really."

"I'll bet she thinks it's worth it, to get to talk to you on the phone," Crane said.

"Yeah."

"A point per minute?" I asked. "That seems sort of-harsh."

"Yeah. It's rough," Kenny said, in agreement.

He turned to Guthrie, who hadn't uttered a word so far in the conversation. "Dad told me you've been goin' by to visit. He

said it's really meant a lot to Mom. I sure appreciate that, Guth."

Guthrie looked uncomfortable. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"What do you get points for?" I asked then, still curious.

"Harlie," Crane said quietly, in an attempt to head me off.

"It's okay," Kenny told him. "You get points for bein' on time for meals, and school, and everything. And keepin' your

living area tidy. Stuff like that. You have to have points to get calls or visits."

"You have school?" I asked. "It's summer."

Kenny gave a half-smile. "They don't recognize summer vacation around here. We have to study and stuff three hours a day. In

the afternoons. They have teachers that come in."

"Wow," I said.

"Yeah. Then they can take points away, too. If you get caught doin' somethin' that's against the rules."

I wondered what sort of sins caused the points to be yanked, but I didn't ask. This place sounded just awful to me.

A moment or more of silence. And then Kenny said, quietly, "I guess Murphys is probably really buzzing, right? About this

whole thing?"

Crane was silent, until it seemed that Guthrie wasn't going to answer.

"It is," Crane said, in honesty, meeting Kenny's eye.

"Makes it rough for Mom and Pop," Kenny said, looking sad.

"Your folks will be alright," Crane said. "They'll make it thru. And be ready for you to get back home again."

Kenny brightened a bit. "Yeah. Thirteen days down out of ninety days. Seventy-seven more to go."

Silence. And then I asked, "The horses are beautiful here."

"Yeah. We don't get to ride 'em, though. Just take care of them."

I stared at Kenny, aghast. "Why can't you ride them?"

"I don't know. They just say they're not to ride."

I was still taking the stupidity of that in, when he continued.

"I guess I won't be playin' football this fall," Kenny said then, sounding regretful.

For the first time, Guthrie spoke on his own. "They'll miss ya. The team, I mean."

"Yeah. I always thought I'd play all four years of high school." Then Kenny seemed to catch himself, and

said, "I've got no right to bitch about it. It's my own fault I'm here."

He looked to Crane. "I didn't get a chance to tell ya, when I was over that one day, Crane, but I wanna thank you

for talkin' to me that night. And for-drivin' me home, and bein' there while I told my folks. It made it easier."

"I'm glad if I helped," Crane said. And then, he said, "I think Harlie and I will take a turn around, while you two

talk." He paused, looking to Guthrie. "Alright?"

"Yeah," Guthrie said, with a nod.

So, I got up when Crane did, and we left the two boys there, sitting at that black metal table, and walked away. We

walked towards the white fence, which surrounded about fifteen horses. We stood there, watching them, and

boys continued to come and go, shoveling manure, and raking the dirt.

"I've never seen anybody rake dirt before," I said, sort of low. "What's the point to it?"

"I'd say the point of it is to keep them busy, and out of trouble," Crane said.

I leaned my cheek onto Crane's shoulder, wrapping my arms around his left arm. "This place is horrible, Crane!" I said.

As a couple of the boys came closer, Crane made a shushing sound to me. "There's worse places, Harlie."

The two boys paused. One was the boy who'd tried talking to me earlier near the barn. The other was taller, with

a mass of curly hair, and a tattoo on his forearm.

"Hello, again," said the friendly boy, smiling at me.

"Hi," I said. I looked up at Crane, not sure what to say. I mean, how friendly should I be?

"You're here visiting Kenny Harris, huh?" the boy asked then.

"That's right," Crane said, answering for me.

"I wouldn't object if I had a visitor that looked like you," the flirty boy said, keeping his eyes on me.

If it had been Brian or Evan, they would have snarled at the kid, and told him to move along. Crane's nicer.

He said, in a calm enough way, "You fellows better be getting on with your chores."

The boy grinned at Crane. "Aw, man, have a heart," he said. "Just let me stand here and look at her for a minute or so,

alright?"

Nothing shy about this boy. I couldn't help smiling at him a little. Even if he was full of b.s.

"Move along, boys," Crane said, still nice enough.

"Okay, okay," the friendly boy said, still grinning. And, then, as the two of them began walking away, the friendly one

walking backwards, all sure of himself, and still smiling, there was a roar that made me jump.

It was two men, who I assumed were some of the counselors, or monitors or whatever, that kept an eye on the boys.

The roar came from one of them. "Ben! Lonnie!"

Both boys jumped as if scalded, and turned to face the men, no longer smiling.

There was an immensely uncomfortable couple of minutes then, where the boys were berated by both men

about why they were standing and talking to us when they had chores to complete.

They were told that they were losing twenty-five points each, and would have extra chores.

When the taller boy complained that he didn't even have twenty-five points to lose, the monitor said that the boy would be having

solitary meals and room restriction to compensate for that.

The boys shuffled off, under the supervision of both the men. I'd winced during the altercation.

I didn't even have any words. I took Crane's hand for comfort, and we began walking towards the courtyard again.

And, as we walked, a loud gong sound echoed across the yards.

"Lunch," Crane said, as boys began running past us, hurrying towards the white cafeteria building.

Guthrie and Kenny were walking towards us, and the four of us paused there, near Crane's truck.

"Don't be late for your lunch," Crane told Kenny.

"That's the first bell. In five minutes, they sound another one," Kenny said. "That's the one you can't miss."

"Thanks for comin', Crane," Kenny said. "And you, too, Harlie. Thanks a lot."

"It's okay," I said.

"Maybe you all can come back again," Kenny said, and I knew if he could beg, he would.

"We can," Crane told him, and Kenny looked relieved.

"Great. Thanks." He turned to Guthrie.

I could tell that they'd had a talk with some meaning while Crane and I had gone. There was more of an ease

between them. Guthrie looked somber, sad, but not uncomfortable.

"Will you keep goin' to see my Mom and Pop?" he asked Guthrie.

"I will," Guthrie promised.

"Thanks." Kenny put his hand out, and Guthrie and he shook hands. "I'll see ya, Guth."

"Yeah," Guthrie said. "I'll see ya, Kenny."

And, with a last grin, one that made me remember the old care-free Kenny of past days, he took off on a run, sprinting

towards the white building where lunch was being served.

7

Our ride home began silently. Once in the thick of the city, we began passing fast food restaurants.

"You two want burgers for lunch?" Crane asked us. "Or tacos?"

"Whatever you and Har want," Guthrie said.

I shrugged, looking at Crane. "I don't care, either."

"Alright, then," Crane said. "Since you're both leaving it up to me to choose, then I'd rather have a real meal." He

leaned forward a little, searching along the busy streets. "There we go," he said, and pulled into the parking lot of

a café.

The café was one of those older types, that's been there for years, and the city sort of grew up around it.

The waitress turned out to be the owner, as well, and chatted Crane up. She reminded me a little of Marie. She

took our orders, and brought us plates heaped with meatloaf, and mashed potatoes, and asparagus. Afterwards, she

tried to tempt us with peach pie, but we all turned it down. The lunch had been really filling.

We hadn't talked much during the meal. At least, not about Kenny, or that place.

Crane left a generous tip, saying as we walked to the truck, that it was probably hard for her to

stay in business.

Once, driving again, Crane introduced the subject that was on all of our minds.

"Kenny seems to be getting himself together," he said.

"Yeah," Guthrie said.

"Do you feel better, now that you've talked to him?" Crane asked quietly.

"I feel better," Guthrie said, and then swung his glance to Crane. "But, I feel worse, too."

Crane nodded in understanding. After that, Guthrie was quiet, looking out the window. I was quiet, too, full of

my own emotions. Crane adjusted the radio, and as Don Williams filled the truck cab, I leaned my cheek against

Crane's shoulder as he drove.

7

At home, there was only an hour or so before suppertime, and I went to change my clothes, and then to do

my chores. Guthrie had remained mostly silent during the ride home from Fresno. He'd bunched up an old jacket and laid

his head on it, against the window, and closed his eyes.

I don't think he was really sleeping, or anything, but once, I noticed Crane leaning forward a bit, and looking over

at him. I knew Crane was concerned about Guthrie keeping things bottled up inside. I looked at Crane and he met my eyes, reaching

over to pat my knee.

Guthrie, too, went to do his chores at home. He ate less at supper than usual, and excused himself, standing up, ready to head

back outside.

Hannah reached out and caught at his hand, holding him in place.

"Guthrie," she said, in a worried way. Then that was all.

Guthrie, standing beside her chair, her hand on his, looked at her, and said, "Ma'm?"

"Are you alright?" Hannah asked him.

"Don't worry 'bout me, Hannah."

"Well, I do. You hardly ate-" Hannah began.

"Hannah," Adam spoke quietly, and when Hannah looked down the table towards him, Adam added, "Let him go,"

in a quiet way.

Hannah turned Guthrie's hand loose, though her eyes were still on him. Guthrie gave her a half-hearted smile, and

went out the back door, closing the screen door quietly, and not letting it slam.

"Let him have some time," Adam said.

"He needs to talk," Hannah said, stubbornly.

"He will," Adam said, sounding confident.

Without Guthrie there, Hannah turned her attentions to me.

"How did you think Kenny was?" she asked me.

I hesitated, looking across the table towards Crane. "He seemed alright," I said, vaguely. Then I shrugged. "It's

hard to explain-that place is so awful."

"Is it?" Hannah asked, looking concerned. She looked to Crane. "Did you think so, too?"

Crane set his tea glass down, and seemed to choose his words carefully. "It's intense," he said. "But, it's better

than juvenile detention."

"They're mean there," I said, feeling sort of downcast when I thought over the day's events. "They took away

points from two boys just because they were talking to Crane and I!"

"They did that?" Brian asked.

"They did," Crane said. He gave me a smile. "But it was you they were talking to, peanut. Definitely not me."

I knew he was trying to lighten the mood. I couldn't bring myself to smile back.

"It's like a prison camp," I said.

"Oh-" Hannah said, looking upset.

"Harlie," Crane said, and I knew he was warning me off of exaggeration.

"It seemed like it," I said stubbornly. "He has to have points just to be able to talk to his parents on the phone!"

"Kenny has to learn," Adam said. "He has to pay for what he did, Harlie."

"I know," I said. "But-" I let my voice sort of trail off, and stabbed at a piece of broccoli with my fork.

"I told Kenny we'd try to make it back up there again," Crane said.

After that the conversation drifted to other things. I managed to get Evan alone after the meal and ask him

if he'd seen the Jack that day while I'd been gone.

Evan, who was pouring M&M's from a packet into his hand, gave me a look that said more than words could have.

"Now, Har-" he began.

"Don't wind up for a lecture," I interrupted him. "I'm just asking if you've seen him."

He was still giving me that same, cautionary stare.

"That's all," I said.

"No. I haven't seen him."

"Okay," I said, and sighed.

I went outside then, too, in search of Guthrie. I found him, alongside the barn, sitting on the hay bale where we

sit sometimes together. He was putting a pinch of tobacco chew into his cheek.

"I didn't know you were chewing tobacco," I said quietly, and he jumped a little, looking around at me.

"Man, I didn't hear you comin' up," he protested.

He slipped the can of Copenhagen back into his shirt pocket, and stared back out across the pastures.

I went to sit down beside him on the hay bale.

"Don't let Hannah see that when she does the laundry," I told him.

"No intention for her to find it," Guthrie said.

We were quiet, both watching the horses and the cattle in the field in front of us.

"It's a horrible place," I said. No need to explain what 'place' that I was talking about.

"Yeah."

I didn't know what to say, really, and a few minutes later, Guthrie leaned over, clasping his hands together, and

putting his head down, so that he was basically staring at the ground.

I could sense Guthrie's pain. Just as if it were my eyes, or my ears, or my sense of touch. I could sense it. His pain was deep.

Intense. Seeing Kenny might have healed something in him, but it had also opened something else. Made it raw. And hurting.

I reached out to touch his arm, just for a moment, and then I moved it again.

"What can I do, Guthrie?" I asked him, feeling sort of helpless.

He shook his head, not answering.

"Will you talk to somebody?" I asked then. "I can get Crane, if you want. Or Ford-"

"Adam," he said, his voice really low, and without raising his head. "I'll talk to Adam."

"Alright," I said, and I stood up, giving him a look, all bent over that way, before I walked quickly to

the house. The living room was filling up for the evening. Adam was just coming thru from the kitchen, and

he saw me, pausing there by the front door.

"Adam," I said, and he looked to me.

"What, sugar?"

I went to stand near him, and said, softly, "Guthrie wants to talk to you."

Adam met my eye, and I could tell he was well aware of things. "Alright," he said calmly. "Where is he?"

"Beside the barn. Sitting on the hay bale."

"Okay." He looked to Hannah and said, "Be back in a few minutes, babe."

Hannah nodded, watching as Adam headed out the door.

I went to the screen door, looking out at Adam crossing the yard, heading towards where Guthrie sat.

I felt someone beside me, and Hannah was there, looking out as well.

"He wanted to talk to Adam," I said, in quiet explanation.

Hannah nodded, but only rubbed her hand over my back, and said, "Come on," to me. She went over to sit next to

Clare on the couch, smiling as Clare made Isaac laugh out loud.

7

Adam and Guthrie were outside a long time. I admit, every once in a while I would get up and go to the door and

look out. I'd only been able to see Adam from that angle, and not Guthrie. But once, when Ford and I went outside to the

front porch, sitting on the top step to eat slices of cold watermelon, I could see that Adam and Guthrie had moved. They

had walked down the driveway a bit, and had stopped, leaning against the corral fence, talking.

From where we sat, Ford and I could see Guthrie, his shoulders hunched, and his head down, and Adam, wrapping his

arm around Guthrie's shoulders. I wasn't sure, but I thought Guthrie might even be crying.

I've seen Guthrie mad, and upset, and even really sad, and serious, like when Doc G died, and he was trying to

be strong for me. But, I don't think that I've seen him cry, at least not openly, since he was about ten and Brian had

spanked him for helping spray paint an underpass going into Murphys with some other boys.

"Ford," I said, and Ford followed my sight, to where Adam and Guthrie stood together.

"I think he's crying," I said, nearly in a whisper.

"Adam will help," Ford said.

I didn't want my slice of watermelon any longer. "Here," I said, holding it out to Ford. "You eat it."

Ford took it from me, finished it off, and then stood up. "Let's go inside," he said. "I feel like we're invading

their privacy."

He paused, at the screen door, holding it open for me.

I gave another look, and then, I felt as if Ford was right. I was witnessing something personal. Private. Adam would

help Guthrie, I knew that. And, suddenly, I didn't want to see anymore. It was as if I was too afraid to see Guthrie in such

obvious need. So, I got up, and went inside with Ford.

7

And Guthrie was better after that. We went bowling one afternoon, with Kristin, Trent and Lori, and another friend of Guthrie's,

Les, who I've known for a couple of years. It was sort of one of those last minute, 'hey, he'd like to go out with you' type

of things. So, I did. And, it was a fun afternoon.

After we'd dropped Kristin off at her house, Guthrie and I drove home in the late afternoon, just taking it slow, and

cruising along with the windows down.

We talked about this and that, nothing too involved. School, and whether I would want to go out with Les again. That sort of

stuff. I'd never asked Guthrie what Adam had said to him that night. Or if he'd helped Guthrie feel any better.

I figured the first part was none of my business. And the second part was really fairly obvious. Guthrie did feel better. I

could tell. He even went to the Harris's one night when they were going to call Kenny, so that he could talk to him on the phone, too,

and not use up any more of Kenny's points.

When we got home, almost everybody was sitting around in the back yard, in lawn chairs, drinking iced tea and talking. Nancy

was there with Evan, Hannah and Adam, Ford, holding Isaac, Brian and Clare.

Guthrie and I walked up to the circle of chairs, and answered questions about how the bowling had gone, and had I had

fun with Les. And then, from what seemed far off, but really wasn't, there was the sound of a braying burro.

I turned so fast that my braid nearly slapped my cheek. And there he was. The Jack. Hurrying towards the corral fence,

as fast as his little brown legs could carry him, and braying the whole way.

"Hey, it's the Jack," Guthrie said.

I didn't realize that I was holding my breath, until Brian spoke. "Well, peach, what are you waitin' for? Better go give

your burro a kiss goodnight."

I turned my face to Brian's, and he grinned at me. Adam wasn't grinning so big, but he smiled and said, "Go."

I gave them all a huge smile, and then I ran across the yard towards the barn. I had to go there before I went

to see my burro. After all, he would be expecting an apple.

7

The end of this adventure of Harlie and the rest of the McFaddens! I'm proud of this chapter. With the feelings about

Kenny, and then the acceptance at the end of Brian and Adam of the burro, and his presence at the ranch. I will continue to write

about the McFaddens as long as you all want to read the stories. Another story coming soon!

Long live the McFaddens!


End file.
